Now is the winter
by paladin1916
Summary: Matthew & Mary in AU Season 2
1. Double toil and trouble

A/N: My AU take on the principal M/M scenes in Season 2; written without regard to any spoilers, so no Lavinia.

October 13, 1914

Downton Abbey

"You have become a harridan, a termagant and a virago, all before your time!".

At every syllable Mary recoiled. Her grandmother had not talked to her like this since Mary had thrown one of Violet's best Spode tea cups at Edith more than fifteen years ago.

"And that is when you are not sunk in your melancholia for days on end. If you keep this up you are going to end up like the Lady of Shalott."

Her grandmother paused for breath and continued.

"You have kicked every cat. Cut all your friends. Upset every servant. Poor Edith is a wreck. Look at how wan your mother is".

Mary looked at her mother. Cora did look pale and exhausted.

"You are a spoiled, spoiled child. I blame myself as much as your parents" Violet glared at Cora. It was clear she did not.

"But there is a war on. We no longer have time for your shenanigans. It is time for you to grow up."

It had started innocuously enough.

Carson had served tea and left them. Mary had been stirring sugar into her tea when she realized they were both staring at her.

She smiled at them. "Yes?"

Her mother started. Her voice was low, her tone was serious. Mary leaned towards her to hear.

"Mary, there are two important things we must discuss with you."

"What? Has something happened? To father? To ... ?'" She could not say his name.

"Let her talk!" Her grandmother snapped at her.

Her mother continued. "No, as far we know nothing has happened to either of them". She paused and then went on.

"Firstly, today your father is signing papers at the War Office leasing Downton Abbey to the Army. It is going to be turned into a convalescent hospital for wounded officers. After their wounds have stabilized they will come here to recover."

"Surveyors will be coming next week and the builders will start working on the house on November 3rd. We have to be totally moved out by January 1st".

Mary looked around her. She loved this house. "What do you mean working on it? What about all of our belongings? Where are we going to go?" Her voice was getting higher. She felt herself getting shriller. She did not want want to lose control..

" I imagine they will be painting everything civil service green" her grandmother snapped.

Cora plowed on. "Walls can be repainted after the war. We will store as much as we can in the attics. We are also going to use one of the hay barns. It is a big job shifting 200 years of accumulated stuff and everyone will have to help. Including you."

"As for us, we are moving in with your grandmother".

Mary stared at them both. She counted to herself. "But there are only three bedrooms in the Dower House!"

"Yes, you and Edith will have to share". Her mother made it sound so reasonable.

"If we do, one of us won't survive the year!"

Violet held up her hand. "Easy. There may be an alternative if you would wait until the second item on the agenda."

Mary acquiesced and the three of them discussed the arrangements for the move.

Later after Mary had asked every question she could think of she poured them each another cup of tea and looked at them.

"I believe we have reached item two now". Mary relaxed, what could be worse that losing Downton?

Cora reached forward and touched her knee. "Mary, it is time to determine your future".

"My future, you can't ... I will..." And her grandmother went off like a bomb.

Mary leaned back in her chair and heard the entire litany of her sins and shortcomings up to and including "that Turk".

Finally her grandmother was winding up. "Mary you have botched your life doing it your way. Now you are going to do it our way" Cora nodded.

Mary opened her mouth to reply but her mother spoke first. "Mary, please do not misunderstand, you can decide what you want to do,but we are going to help you get there. Your grandmother is correct, you do have a way of making a mess of things".

Again Mary tried to defend herself but Violet cut her off.

"We have a question for you. And we do not any equivocation from you. No buts or ifs. We want a simple yes or no. So think carefully how you answer."

There was a long pause.

"Do you still want to marry him?"

A flood of memories swept Mary away. His eyes, his smile, the sound of his voice. The stillness she felt being with him, her breath suspended as she waited ... no, no he is saying no. No, No. Mary started to sob.

Neither one of them offered to comfort her. She finally recovered. She blew her nose and wiped the tears off her cheeks. She glared at them, the two harpys. They gazed back at her.

"Answer the question"

"But, but ..."

"Yes or no".

Mary looked down at her lap. She had wrung her handkerchief into a tight knot. The ache in her chest hurt so. "Yes".

"What? What did she say?" her grandmother queried. "Speak up girl."

"Yes!".

They smiled at her. Her mother stood, came over and hugged her. Violet rang for Carson. Almost immediately he came in with a tray. On it were damp and dry towels. He smiled at her.

Mary glared at him. "So you are in this too?" She accused.

"It is for the best. Freshen yourself up child."

Violet stood up. "Do not start without me, I will be back shortly". And left the room.

Mary composed herself. "What is going on?" she asked her mother.

Cora just shook her head. "Wait".

"What is the point, he doesn't love me." Mary snapped.

"On the contrary he loves you so much he has gone to throw his life away in the War because he thinks you do not love him. You love him and he loves you and everyone knows this except the two of you"

Carson gave a barely perceptible nod to her and left.

Finally her grandmother returned and Carson left to take up his post outside the door where he would continue to prevent any interruptions.

"Have you heard from him at all since the garden party?" Violet asked.

"No, he left right away to go enlist in Manchester. And he told his mother that he did not want any letters, nor would he send any letters while he was in training".

"Well that is blessing, it is hard to work around things if there are harsh letters being exchanged."

"Mary, there are two obstacles preventing your marriage." her grandmother started.

"There is the status of your virtue. Have you told him?"

"No".

"So this is an obstacle entirely in your own mind.. It is no impediment to him."

"But I have to tell him."

"In due course. In due course, but not before you have redeemed yourself."

"But how ..."

"By living the purest of lives. You will help his mother at the hospital. You will be another Nightingale. You will be surrounded by wounded heroes some of whose injuries will enhance their attractiveness. You will not succumb to temptation. Every letter his mother sends to him will not fail to mention the paragon in her midst. Then, in the fullness of time, you will throw yourself at his feet and confess all. He will acknowledge that you have fallen but by your actions deserve his mercy and he, being the good Christian gentleman that he is, will raise you up and forgive you."

Cora smiled at her and patted her hand. "Your grandmother makes it sound so easy but it will be very hard. You know how you love to flirt. All it will take is another misunderstanding and it will all be for naught"

Mary winced. Misunderstanding indeed.

Violet continued "Although it is a beam in your eyes it is less than a mote in his. Our bigger concern must be the beam in his eye. He is convinced that you do not love him for himself but merely for his prospects. As I told your mother and your aunt, if you would not marry him when he was poor he would not marry you when he was rich".

"But I ..." Mary started to protest but her voice trailed off.

Cora took her turn. "We know of your inner turmoil but he does not. Remember he is a solicitor and he looks at things with a legal eye. You must admit that there is not a jury in the world that would fail to convict you of gold digging based on the circumstantial evidence."

"So we are going to change your circumstances. You were worried about sharing with Edith. Cousin Isobel has a spare bedroom in Crawley House."

Mary now counted the bedrooms in Crawley House. "But the third bedroom is no larger than a closet..."

"His bedroom, he is not using it"

"But grandmother, it would be improper"

Violet sniffed. "How so, it is not like he would be in it at the same time as you".

Cora continued. "So you will not only work with Cousin Isobel, you will live with her. You will be the perfect middle class daughter-in-law. You will show him you can live the life you would have had with him had he been poor. Convince him of this and he will forget that he ever doubted you. And not to make a virtue out of necessity we are all going to have to live a middle class existence anyway. The War will see to that."

They all looked at each other.

"So will you give it a chance?"

"Yes"

Violet looked hard at Mary. "Excellent. He will have leave at Christmas when he finishes his officer training. It will your first test. But patience girl, patience. The stag was almost trapped once, he will be exceedingly skittish the second time."

Violet stood up. "I really must be leaving." She started out but stopped and turned back to Mary.

"And remember there are no guarantees. The War could change everything. He could be killed. He could come back maimed or mentally deranged. He could come back a stranger to you. Goodness, he could come back with a French wife. You could change your mind too. Maybe one of those wounded heroes we are about to be blessed with will be the one for you. Time will tell"

As she was heading through the door Carson held open for her she called over her shoulder "We three shall meet again".


	2. On a Darkling Plain

A/N: I acknowledge the ownership of these characters by Julian Fellowes, Carnival Films and ITV. This story is published solely for the pleasure of it and for no commercial gain at all. Your reviews are appreciated.

Chapter 2: On a Darkling Plain

December 21, 1914

Outside of Salisbury

Matthew lie in his cot listening to his tent mates snore. The two barristers, Charlie Barlow, son of the most renowned KC in Manchester, and Archie MacDonald, who when Sergeant Major Harris has asked how a Scot had ended up in the Manchester regiment has replied that they had first choice. At the time it had made them laugh but hadn't seemed so funny when they ended up with 2 extra days guard duty. And finally Bert "Prince Albert" Hastings who had started out as a solicitor with him so many lifetimes ago. They had all joined up together as part of the 25th Pals battalion of the Manchester Regiment Most of the Pals battalions were just made of people from the same locale but the 25th was made up of barristers, solicitors, clerks, conveyancers, scriveners and others in Manchester's legal community. The four of them had been among those chosen for officer training and they had ended up sharing a tent these last 16 weeks on Salisbury plain.

Charlie had had a sign made up for the tent which read:

Barlow, MacDonald, Crawley & Hastings

Barristers & Solicitors

When Matthew had asked why the barristers were listed first Charlie had rightly pointed out that they were the older profession. Bert agreed pointing out that the snake in the Garden of Eden had been a barrister. And then the fight started. It had been a great tent..

Shortest day of the year. Graduation Day. Sunrise was still 4 hours away. Another 5 minutes and then he would get up 10 minutes before reveille which meant that he would be first to the latrine, first to the wash stand and first to the mess hall. And packed up first. He smiled to himself, his mother would be amazed at how organized he had become.

He had amazed himself. He had enjoyed training camp.

The first 8 weeks of training camp had been hell. Marching. Cold and wet. Exercising. Cold and damp. Shooting. Action every hour of the day and night. Tired and sore. Cold and wet Little sleep. Horrible food and not enough of it. Sore and tired. Sergeant Major Harris had promised to work them like rented mules and he had done so. And always the constant noise. The classroom work had been the only respite, he had always found book learning easy.

But about half way through the course he had made it over the hump. He was harder and leaner now. His solicitor spread was gone. He and his fellow cadets could out march the instructors. He was an excellent shot. Sergeant Major Harris seemed to yell at them less. As Archie had quipped, it was like Boy Scout camp with machine guns. If only all soldiering was like this

But it was not. The classroom work had been getting more serious, deadly serious, as the course wound down. The instructors were blunt. It was made clear to the cadets that war was no longer glorious. There was no thin red line with the colours rippling in the wind anymore. Just mud and trenches and artillery barrages and machine guns. Cadets with overactive imaginations were working themselves into terrible states of anxiety.. Crying uncontrollably or refusing to get out of bed or cowering where ever they could hide. It all ended the same, the cadet being lead away in disgrace.

He knew fear was out there waiting for him. He knew his test would be the first time he crouched in a dugout being shelled or had to go over the top and charge the German trenches. Then he would find out if he was a coward. But not just yet.

And to top everything off he had lead his Reds to victory over the hated Blues yesterday with two tries and a game saving tackle. A win that put them atop the table in the Cadet Rugby League and won them the first cup ever awarded.

Yes he was serene. Except... except for her. He frowned. He had thought that prohibiting all communication with Downton would help him to forget her. But she haunted him always. Always on the edges, always ready to move into focus if he would let her. Daytime he could hold her at bay as long as he was doing something, the more physical the better. But if he started to daydream during a lecture or they were on day leave in town and he saw or heard a pretty girl she was there.

When the others started talking about girls, which they seemed to do every night before lights out, he tried to read or otherwise ignore them but it was difficult. Especially since they had all heard about his windfall and wanted to know all about it. They knew there were three marriageable daughters and they cross examined him about them relentlessly trying to determine which one he had chosen. He made his answers as noncommittal and evasive as possible. When they tired of his refusing to go along they would take turns pretending to be him and one of the daughters with outrageous dialogue and much kissing of hands and other extravagant gestures. He tried to be a good sport and laugh with them but each barb had its own little bit of truth hooked on it; each exaggeration its undercoat of reality. When the others had moved onto other amusements he was left to pick through the debris of his relationship with her.

After lights out was worse. He dreamed of her every night. Even if he was so tired he fell asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow he dreamed of her. Some were fairy tale dreams where they lived happily ever after but there was also the one where he in battle dress, but without any weapons at all, standing before her in the Great Hall at Downton Abbey. She was dressed as Britannia in a white robe with trident and shield. She was coming towards him but as he went to her she thrust the trident at him. So far he always woken up with a start before the trident had hit him; he worried about what would happen if he didn't wake up in time.

Night guard duty was the worst. It was not hard duty. He had to walk his post. He had to stay awake. It became automatic, too automatic because it gave him too much time to think. At first he had endlessly rehashed every meeting, every conversation, every glance, until he no longer knew what was true and what was imagined.

Lately though he had taken to considering the terms of a contract with her. After all she did not love him, to her it was a straight forward commercial transaction.

Whereas the party of the first part has the right to inherit a title and great estate. And whereas the party of the second part wishes to acquire an interest in the said title and great estate. Now therefore witnesseth that in consideration of the party of the first part agreeing to marry the party of the second part, the party of the second part shall ... what exactly?

The party of the second part shall give the party of the first part a reasonable opportunity to make her love him. But would she give him such a chance?

Supposedly the Earl and Lady Cora had such an arrangement when they married but it was hard to believe, they were so obviously in love now.

Could he make it work, would she grow to love him, or would they mechanically produce a heir and then grow apart. She haughty and cold towards him and taking lovers to hurt him while he sought solace in a bottle? Would a reasonable man take the chance? What to do, what to do?

Matthew sighed and rolled out of his warm cocoon. The only way to banish her was to keep busy.


	3. Pas de Deux

Chapter 3: Pas de Deux

December 23, 1914

Downton

Matthew put down his pack and was about to use the knocker on the front door to announce himself when he thought it is my home after all and he went on in.

The house was still and quiet.

"Hello the house" he called. No one answered. No one was home.

Oh well he thought I'll dump my kit in my room and then see what I can scrounge in the larder. He headed up the stairs and down the hall to his room.

But it wasn't his room. It was different. It was in the right location, he wouldn't have forgotten where it was in just 16 weeks. But it had changed. It seemed feminine. He looked around. His stuff was gone; no, his books were still in the bookcase. He pulled open a drawer in the bureau. There appeared to be silky unmentionables in the drawer. He hurriedly shut the drawer. Her mother had obviously taken in a female boarder. After all he was off to the War and maybe she felt the need for the company and maybe the income as well. Curious he opened the wardrobe and looked in. There was a faint scent, he knew it, it was ...the memory of their first kiss came flooding back; he felt a lightness in his chest, he ...

"Oh!"

He spun around. "Mary!"

Mary carefully set the parking brake and stepped out of the Rolls. She enjoyed the freedom of being able to drive, when this war was over she would not give it up just because chauffeurs became available again.

She peeled off her driving gloves as she walked towards Crawley House. She had to shift some of her clothes over to the Dower House so Matthew could have his old room back for the duration of his leave. She was supposed to share a room with Edith but she thought if she played her cards right the wretch would be sleeping on her grandmother's sofa before midnight. She smiled to herself.

She was still enjoying the prospect of her forthcoming triumph when she strode into her/his room. There was man in there! "Oh!" she gasped. It was him!

"Mary"

It was her. He was so happy to see her but also embarrassed to be caught in what was obviously her bedroom now. There was so much he wanted to say but all he managed to blurt out was "Mary, what is going on?"

"If you had not been incommunicado for the last four months you would know what was going on!" she snapped.

"Touche. Mary, I'm sorry I startled you. Let me get my stuff out of here and you can tell what is happening over some tea. But first..."

"What?"

"That coat you have on..." To him it looked like it was made out of some sort of canvas which seemed somewhat declassee for her.

"It is a driving coat. I drove myself over in the Rolls" she said proudly.

"Bravo! And you wear the coat to keep yourself clean if you have to work on the Rolls."

"Yes."

"And you probably wear gloves to keep your hands from getting greasy."

"Of course. What are you getting at?"

"And sometimes while you are wearing those greasy gloves you absent mindedly brush your hair away from your forehead like this" and he moved his finger along her forehead. He was enjoying this, maybe he should have been a barrister instead of a solicitor.

"No!" she gasped. Her forehead burned where he had touched it. She hurried down to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She could hear him laughing behind her. Diagonally across the right side of her forehead was a black streak of grease. She scrubbed away at it trying to recall at the same time where she had stopped on her drive and who had seen her.

She went back down the hall and around the corner. He was standing in the open doorway of the third bedroom looking bemused. The room was filled practically to the ceiling with trunks, boxes and racks of clothes.

"Why didn't you tell me instead of playing silly games" she scolded.

He smiled at her "I thought maybe it was a new fashion. You know, red Indian war paint"

She continued to glare at him so he tried to change the subject.

"So what's all of this?" he waved his hand at the contents of the bedroom.

"They are all my clothes. When we moved of Downton Abbey I had to take all of them."

"No matter" he said, "I will have Moseley make me up a bed on the sofa".

"Molesley does not work here anymore"

"What? Has he enlisted also?"

"No, he is butler at the Dower House now"

Mary continued talking over his reply. "You are to have your old room back. I am moving over to the Dower House while you are here".

"But there are no more bedrooms there than here so that means..."

"Yes. I will have to share with Edith" Over Edith's dead body she thought.

"Nonsense. The war does not need a new front. You will stay here in your room. If Molesley is gone from here I will stay in his room".

"You cannot sleep in a servant's room. It would not be proper."

"What would not be proper would be for a young lady to be cast into the cold winters night by a gentleman just so he could use her room. I will not be thought to be inhospitable. And to anticipate your next objection, if any of the current inhabitants of the Dower House force me to abuse my hospitality thus I will not partake of their hospitality at all"

With this he picked up his bags and headed downstairs. She watched him go. At least army training had not diminished his stubbornness she thought. Then she followed him down.

As he headed downstairs he wondered if she would call his bluff. If the Earl, the Countess or especially the Dowager Countess, so demanded he knew he would relent.

He dropped his stuff on Molesley's bed, no, his bed, and looked around. Small, sparse and still better then the cot in the tent in which he had slept these past sixteen weeks.

He went into the kitchen. Mary was fiddling with the damper on the stove. He offered to help.

"No, you do not have the knowledge Mrs. Bird has entrusted me with."

"And what has become of Mrs. Bird?"

"She and Mrs. Patmore are the extent of the kitchen staff at the Dower House. Since all of the young staff, Daisy, William and all the rest have quit to either join up or go to work in the war factories we have had to consolidate. Your mother and I make our own breakfast here, eat lunch at the hospital or the Great House and have dinner at the Dower House. Only grandmother does not call it dinner, since we don't dress for it anymore she calls it picnicking." They both smiled at the thought.

"You must be famished, let me make you something." She looked in the larder. "I have bread, some ham and cheese. Would you like a sandwich?"

"Please, is there any mustard?"

He watched her make the sandwich. He admired her technique, quite confident considering that four months ago she had probably never even cut a loaf of bread. "Oh, you can leave the crusts on" he said.

She watched him eat. He ate like Pharaoh, her father's Labrador. Her father said it came from having come from a big litter and she supposed that was what a army camp was like. She started making the second sandwich before he had finished the first. That ham would have lasted his mother and her a week. She wondered what she going to feed him for breakfast. She was going to have to order extra supplies from the Dower House.

When finally he had finished eating, or more accurately paused, as he contemplated whether to eat the plate of ginger biscuits she had put in front of him, from left to right, or right to left, he leaned back in his chair and picked up his mug of tea. A mug of tea, he thought, Lady Mary Crawley drinking tea out of a mug. Tea she had made herself. Who would have thought.

He smiled at her. She smiled back. He felt content.

"Thank you, I really, really needed that. I skipped breakfast to make the train" He looked at her. "Now tell what all has happened. From the beginning"

From the beginning she thought I will give you the story from the beginning.

"Last August there was a garden party at Downton Abbey. Father announced that we were at war. The next day you snuck off to Manchester to enlist".

He frowned and motioned at her to continue.

And she did. She told him how the Army had called up her father and made him a general. How Bates has reenlisted as her father's batman. How Tom and William and practically every other young man on the estate had enlisted as well. How the young female staff had left to work in the factories producing war material. How the estate could not match the wages being paid. How in particular Anna's leaving had so disappointed her. How Sybil had run off to enlist as a army nurse. How her father had leased the Great House and grounds to the Army for use as a convalescent hospital .How Carson and Mrs. Hughes would continue to live in the Great House as the owner's representatives. How his mother was to be the chief matron and she was to be his mother's administrative assistant. How she also had to help her mother administer the estate and how hard it had been with the shortage of farm workers to take off the harvest. How the only book she had read in the past four months was Principles of Accountancy.

Occasionally he interrupted with questions, but he gave his serious attention to her narrative. He did not

make any wisecracks although he had been sorely tempted when she had complained that with no maids, other then O'Brian who also took care of her mother and grandmother, she had to dress herself. After all he had been dressing himself since he was six.

She saw his mouth twitch when she had complained about having to dress herself; she realized how infantile it sounded as soon as she said it, and was grateful when he refrained from making some witticism. And that he laughed with her and not at her as she described having to learn how to drive after both Carson and Molesley proved to be frighteningly unsuitable as chauffeurs.

"Well enough of Downton, tell me about your training".

He started to tell her about excellent it had been; what a jolly bunch of chaps, and she quickly recognized that he was going to sugar coat the whole experience. She studied him. He was definitely leaner. His face was weathered and tanned. His voice had a slightly harder edge than she remembered; more authoritative. Every once in a while she murmured something to keep him talking. She smiled fondly at him, he was like a boy again in his enthusiasm.

The two talked on as the winter sun set. They both respected the terms of their unspoken armistice, there was no talk of their lives before the war. The kitchen grew dark, lit only by the glow of the stove.

"I bet you a penny I can kiss you without touching you."

She startled. "Pardon? What did you say?"

He smiled at her discomfiture. "I was telling you about how my friend Charlie Barlow had bet a barmaid in Salisbury how he could kiss her without touching her when I noticed you had dozed off."

"I was not sleeping, I was just... I am sorry, please finish your story".

He was not going to let her off that easy.

"Now that I think about it, I really can not tell you how the trick works, the magician's code of honour don't you know."

"Oh come on, I won't tell anyone" she promised.

"No, I cannot tell you but I will show it to you and if you can figure it out so be it".

He took a penny out of his pocket and put it on the table. "Well, where's your stake?"

"I don't have any money on me".

"Here I will lend you one" and he put another penny on the table in front of her.

"Now listen carefully. Sit very still and when I tell you to, start counting to ten slowly, enunciating each number very deliberately. Oh and close your eyes and do not open them until you get to ten. OK start".

She closed her eyes and started to count. "One ...Two"

He leaned over and kissed her. When she started to respond he pulled back. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He thought she would glare at him but it was more of an appraisal.

"I didn't hear you say ten".

"Well I think you did it wrong, you definitely touched me with your lips".

"Did I? Here, you win the bet" and he slid his penny over to her. He grinned at her. "Well I did better than Charlie, he got slapped. I'll have to practice more. Do think Edith would be a good subject?"

"Don't you dare!"

Well that certainly broke the ice she thought.

"I think I almost have the trick figured out; how about double or nothing" she said. She closed her eyes and leaned forward "Three .. Four...".

He leaned towards her and ...

"Mary why are you sitting here in dark? What ...Matthew!"

"Hello mother". He stood up and hugged his mother. Over her shoulder he winked at Mary. Later he thought. She smiled back at him.


	4. Let Nothing Ye Dismay

A/N: I apologize for any historical inaccuracies; however as many a criminal defendant has said: "Don't let the facts get in the way of a good story".

Chapter 4: Let Nothing Ye Dismay

December 25, 1914

Downton Abbey

Robert surveyed the table. Isobel and his mother were discussing the hospital with, he detected, slightly less rancour than usual. His wife was chatting with Edith who was out of sorts that Sir Anthony has sent his regrets. He was still avoiding their hospitality. Mary and Matthew had their heads together and were talking quietly about something. Things looked promising there. Only Sybil was missing. She has written to say that she could not get more than a few days leave from her Army Hospital in France so she and a friend were going to try a whirlwind tour of Paris. He shook his head; to be young and in Paris. He hoped that she was careful. Otherwise it had been a most successful Crawley family Christmas dinner and if things went as he surmised, probably the last for a long time. In a week this would become the domain of the Army for the duration of the war but for now it was still his and his family's.

He tinkled his wine glass with his spoon. When he had everyone's attention he said "With Matthew's indulgence, he and I will forgo our port and join you ladies in the drawing for carols and the opening of the Christmas gifts."

The party moved into the drawing room and found seats in semicircle around the brilliantly decorated Christmas tree. With Mary leading and Edith accompanying on the grand piano, they sang, as best they could, a few of the old favourites.

"Our tradition has been for our youngest child to hand out the gifts" Robert announced "But since Sybil is unfortunately not here to fulfil her office I call upon Edith ..."

"Oh Father, I don't want to" whined Edith.

"But it is tradition, Edith, unless you forfeit." called Mary.

"Yes tradition hangs heavy over your head, unless you redeem your forfeit." agreed Cora "Sing us a song"

With ill grace Edith proceeded to belt out the chorus of Deck the Halls as quickly as she could.

Mary was the next oldest and she quickly redeemed her forfeit by singing a verse of God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman. When she was looking at Matthew she winked at him and he was sure she sang "gentleman" instead of "Gentlemen".

They all looked at Matthew. It was his turn. They all knew he could not sing, at best he mouthed the words.

"Does it have to be a song?" he asked.

"Of course" said Cora.

"Pardon me one second" said Matthew and he left the room.

He came back a few minutes later wearing a disreputable old hat and carrying a cane.

"I didn't know you could use props" said Mary "Would you like musical accompaniment?"

"No thank you, what I must do must be done a capella; however I can use some assistance" and gave Cora and Edith each something.

"A penny?" Edith said. "What am I supposed to with a penny?.

"It will become obvious in a moment" said Matthew as he grinned at Mary. She scowled back at him . He wouldn't dare she thought.

He turned his back on them and ostensibly sang a few scales to limber up his voice as he put it, hummed a few times in a failing attempt to find the right key, bent over and gripped the cane.

He hobbled over to Edith, held out his hat and croaked:

"Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, please to put a penny in an old man's hat"

When Edith didn't immediately respond he nudged her knee with the hat until she caught on and dropped the penny in his hat. He then held out his hat to Cora and continued:

"And if you don't have a penny a ha'penny will do"

She dropped the ha'penny he had given her in the hat and he turned to Mary:

"And if you don't have a ha'penny, then God Bless you"

And knowing the others couldn't see his face he blew a kiss at her and winked. She flushed.

The others all clapped for him and he took several bows.

"Well" said Robert "we seem to have come full circle so I decree that all of the children should hand out the gifts".

When it was Matthew's turn he choose to hand out his own gifts. To each of the ladies he handed a long narrow shallow box elegantly wrapped in silver and blue paper. He asked Lady Cora to keep Sybil's for her. To Robert he gave a slightly stouter box.

"They are all the same, Matthew, did you get a volume discount?" teased Mary.

"I only had a short time between trains in Manchester to do my Christmas shopping so I had to be very efficient. Go ahead and open them" said Matthew.

Each of the ladies' boxes contained a very fine, very light cashmere shawl. Each was a different colour, silver grey for Matthew's mother, mauve for the Dowager Countess, a pale yellow for Cora, royal blue for Edith and a deep red for Mary. Robert's contained a khaki coloured scarf.

"Oh Matthew. How beautiful" Cora thanked him while Isobel helped Violet try on her shawl.

"The lady in the shop said they are pashmina ring shawls and they are from Nepal".

"Why are they called ring shawls?" asked Edith.

"Let me show you. May I borrow a ring from one of the ladies?" asked Matthew.

Lady Cora took off her engagement ring and handed it to him. "Be careful with that ring, it has been passed down from Countess to daughter-in-law through many generations of Crawleys."

"I will" he promised as he took the ring. "I will need a volunteer" and before anyone could react he said "Thank you Mary" and beckoned her to join him.

When she had he gave her the ring and asked her to hold it between her thumb and forefinger.

When Mary took the ring she felt a definite spark.

Matthew gently removed the shawl from her shoulders, took one corner of it and pushed it through the ring. He then reached around and started to slowly pull the shawl through the ring. Mary held the ring firm against the repeated gentle tugs of the weave and felt the tickle of the cashmere as it slid through her palm. She felt out of breath, weak in the knees. When Matthew finally pulled the shawl all of the way through the ring she sat down as quickly as she could.

The others applauded as if Matthew were some magician who had just pulled an elephant out of of his hat. He bowed several times and then came over and sat beside Mary while Edith handed out the next round of gifts.

"You should take your act on the road, tour the music halls of the north" she suggested.

"I would need a pretty assistant" he suggested "someone to distract the crowd while I set up the next trick". He raised his eyebrows at her.

She gave an involuntary shiver and he quickly draped her shawl back around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I should have seen that you were cold. Can I get you something? Something to drink perhaps" he asked.

She shook her head no.

"Now give me your hand" he commanded. She held out her hand and he gently pried her fingers open.

He went to take the ring and she said no and closed her fingers around it again.

"Mary, I must give your mother her ring back."

"No, not now, no ..." she said quietly.

"Mary, someday but not today" and Matthew took the ring from her.

When the party broke up and it was time to back to Downton a logistical problem became apparent. There were seven of them but only room in the back of the Rolls for four. Ignoring the obvious solution of having Molesley take four of them in one trip and then come back for the remaining three, Robert suggested that he and the three older ladies ride while the the young ones walked. Edith immediately protested and insisted that she would ride back even if it meant seating in the front with Molesley. So off the five of them went leaving Matthew and Mary standing at the front entrance with Carson and Mrs. Hughes.

"I am not dressed for a stroll in the snow" said Mary looking down at her gown and evening slippers.

"Not a problem Lady Mary" said Carson producing her long winter coat, fur hat, mittens and galoshes. He had a similar set of gear for Matthew.

"It is a remarkable coincidence that these very things were at Crawley House this morning and now are this evening they are at Downton Abbey. Is this another of your tricks?" she glared at Matthew.

He held up his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "Not me".

Mrs. Hughes knelt down in front of Mary and started pinning up the hem of Mary's dress.

"So were they all in on it?" Mary looked at Carson.

"Perhaps not Lady Edith ..." he said.

As Matthew and Mary finished putting on their coats Carson said "I am instructed to advise you that Mrs. Crawley will be waiting up for you and if you have not arrived at Crawley house by midnight a search party will be send out looking for you." he looked at his pocket watch "You have fifty five minutes for a twenty minute walk." he smiled at them "Have a Happy Christmas".

Carson and Mrs. Hughes watched Matthew and Mary walk down the drive. They both smiled when Mary tucked her arm in his.

As Carson closed the great door he said to Mrs. Hughes "God bless us everyone" and turned out the lights.

They walked in silence for awhile, arm in arm, snow flakes falling quietly around them.

Then Mary said "Enquiring minds would like to know what colour Sybil's shawl is".

"Green of course" Matthew replied "I am of the impression that she loves the colour."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To anyone who was not raised believing servants are part of the furniture. So your parents and grandmother are probably the only ones who don't know. And maybe Edith.".

Matthew looked at her. "You know, I would like to spend Christmas in Paris someday with someone I loved."

But Mary would not be distracted.

"No, you don't mean, she went with a friend, oh ...but it is scandalous!" Mary thought of her own situation. "What will Society think?'"

"Who cares what Society thinks if they truly love each other, the world is a lot bigger than your Society."

"No she can't be there with him, how do you know?"

"I don't know for sure, but I would bet on it ... would you care to wager a penny on it?" and then he bent down and kissed her.

She wanted to argue some more and then she didn't. They held each other for a long time.

They started walking again. As they walked she asked in a quiet voice "Where do we stand?"

He untangled his arm from her arm and she tensed, fearing that ... but then he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. They walked for another few minutes before he answered her.

"When I came back to Downton Abbey for Christmas it was like I was starting a new life. Whatever happened before has faded away like some dream. And in this new life I met this marvellous

young lady, intelligent and beautiful but with a bit of vinegar stirred into the mix.." at this Mary nudged him in the ribs with her elbow and he quickly continued "with a tart tongue and quick wit which made talking to her both intriguing and dangerous. I decided then to do whatever I could to make her mine whatever the cost. But there is the War ... and my quest will have to wait upon my return."

They walked on, leaning on each other.

"And what of you Mary, where do you stand?" asked Matthew.

"I have just met the most dashing young officer. He is kind, and strong, and intelligent and treats me as a person and not as a way to a fortune. And I want to know him in every way though I may have to wait many years to do so".

They stopped and embraced. Then they heard his mother's voice.

"You are back just on time, come on in now so we can all go to bed"

They looked up. They had made it back to Crawley House.


	5. I would I were thy bird

Chapter 5: I would I were thy bird

January 4, 1915

Downton Train Station

Robert and Matthew were leaving Downton. They would travel together to Ripon and then they would split up, Robert heading to London while Matthew went to Manchester to join his Battalion.

The whole family had had a somber breakfast together at the Dower House. Now they, less the Dowager Countess, who had gone on ahead in the Rolls with the luggage, were walking to the station. Isobel lost in her thoughts walked along side Edith who looked forward to her sweet revenge. Her lip curled at the memory of how happy Mary had been over Christmas while she only had had ashes and gall as her lot. Just wait Mary, just wait she thought as she walked.

Robert and Cora walked behind.

"Be careful, I don't want to lose you" said Cora.

Robert squeezed her arm "Don't worry, generals die in their beds. It's junior officers who ..." he paused as he thought of the couple walking behind them "need our prayers".

"Be careful, Matthew" said Mary.

Matthew squeezed her arm "Don't worry, all that is going to happen is a lot of marching back and forth and we will all be home by next Christmas" he said with an easy confidence which he did not really feel.

Finally and much too soon they arrived at the station.

Violet was waiting for them on the platform. "Let me say goodbye to my son" as she claimed Robert from Cora. At the same time Matthew left Mary to stand with Isobel.

Cora and Mary watched the two mothers with their sons. Violet was more reserved just reaching out to touch Robert's arm while Isobel hugged Matthew. But in both their faces you could see the fears and concerns of mothers sending their sons off to war.

Cora put her arm around Mary and squeezed her "Go say goodbye to your father and then you can go back to him" she said looking at Matthew and his mother.

Edith waited for Isobel to finish saying goodbye and then she stepped up to Matthew.

"Matthew I really don't know what to say at times like this so I have written out something for you" and she gave him a letter. "Take care"

Matthew took the letter and put it in the inside pocket of his coat.

"Thank you Edith and I hope everything works out for you"

They shook hands and Edith went to her father, thinking that it certainly would.

The conductor had blown his warning whistle. It was time.

Mary handed Matthew a small package.

"Another present? Mary, you shouldn't have".

"It is a soldier's bible, I have marked the soldier's psalm for you."

Matthew took it and put it in his pocket.

Matthew and Mary faced each other, they stood holding hands, heads down, foreheads almost touching, saying nothing, trying to stop time.

Matthew took his right hand and gently raised her chin. There was a tear running down her cheek and he brushed it away with his finger. "I'll be back".

"I'll be here" and they kissed with a fierceness that surprised them both.

Robert and Cora watched them. Robert grinned and swept Cora into his arms.

"Robert, you wouldn't ..."

"I believe it is a soldierly tradition" he replied and then they did their best to imitate the young lovers.

The train was long out of sight before the ladies left the station.


	6. Some secret foe a havoc here has made

A/N: Gentle reader bear with me. Things are going to get bleak.

Chapter 6: Some secret foe a havoc here has made

February 7, 1915

Near Ypres

It was almost a month before Matthew discovered the letter from Edith he had put in his pocket and forgotten.

He opened it expecting the usual platitudes but was soon dumbfounded. He read it and read it again.

It started innocently enough. Edith regarded him not as a third cousin but as a brother. She had the highest regard for him and she did not want him to make a horrible mistake. And then she launched into the most extraordinary narrative concerning Mary and that Turk. The letter read like one of those horrid gothic novels his mother favoured.

He had forgotten all about the Turk. Obviously Edith hadn't and she had constructed this fantasy of forbidden love. What a lurid imagination she had. And how she must hate her sister to say such vile things about Mary.

He looked at the letter. What to do about it? He quickly decided that he would not give Edith the courtesy of a reply. He suspected that it would be like pouring petrol on a fire. If he did nothing would Edith start spreading this tale around? Preposterous as the story was there was bound to be people who would believe it. He had better send it to Mary who could then put an end to this nonsense.

He has been writing to Mary anyway so he added a quick:

"PS Enclosed is a letter from Edith which I think you can deal with better than I. Edith must have entirely too much free time on her hands if she can concoct drivel such as this. The faster she is married off, preferably to some sheep station owner from Western Australia, the better for all concerned."

March 1, 1915

Downton

Mary was sick, she felt like she was going to throw up. Matthew's letter lay on the table, Edith's letter on top of it.

The careful plan to slowly win Matthew back, the successful start at Christmas, all destroyed by Edith. Evil, malevolent Edith. Edith would pay, she would see to that.

Heedless of the cold spring wind Mary charged coatless to the Dower House clutching Edith's letter. Once there she pushed past a startled Molesley

"Where is she" she yelled, moving into the drawing room. She saw Edith trying to hide behind their grandmother. She headed towards her.

"Mary, what is wrong" Cora intercepting her.

Mary thought about pushing her mother out of the way but instead she stopped. She handed Edith's letter to her mother and stood there, trembling, as she glared at Edith.

"Oh dear" said Cora as she finished reading the letter. She handed it to Violet.

Violet read the letter and tsked. She looked at Edith "What is this compulsion you have to write letters about matters that do not concern you?. Have you no compunction?"

"Why did you do this?" Cora asked Edith.

"Because she" Edith pointed at Mary "turned Sir Anthony against me."

"But Sir Anthony is here, you stupid cow, you would still have a chance with him if you weren't so dimwitted." hissed Mary at her. "Matthew has gone to war and you sent him a letter like that! If he dies you die" Mary promised.

"Sit down everyone!" Violet commanded.

The three of them sat, Cora strategically placing herself between the two sisters.

"Edith, this could prove to be unforgivable if something should happen to Matthew" Violet said. She paused and then continued "it is clear that the two of you can no longer stay together here in Downton. One of you must go into exile and since Mary has made herself indispensable to both Cora and Isobel it will have to be you Edith. You will have to go live with your aunt, I am sure the war effort could use another pair of hands in London" Violet ruled.

"It's not fair!" cried Edith and she ran from the room.

"Now Mary" Violet said more gently "you are going to have to write Matthew and plead your case as best you can. Hopefully it will carry things over until you can meet with him in person." Violet was confident that if Matthew saw Mary he would not reject her; not after the way they had acted towards each at Christmas.

Later when she had calmed down Mary walked back to Crawley House on her own. Cora had suggested that Molesley drive her back but she had declined, saying that she needed to think.

When she was at last in her bedroom she agonized over several drafts of letters to Matthew but nothing worked. She could not find anyway to mitigate things. It is what it is. Finally she wrote:

Dear Matthew:

The gist of what Edith wrote is correct.

Pamuk was my lover.

He died in my bed.

We covered it up to save my 'reputation'.

I am so sorry.

Mary

Mary had decided to plead guilty.


	7. Thou hast not made my life so sweet

Chapter 7: Thou hast not made my life so sweet

April 21, 1915

Near Ypres

Matthew contemplated Mary's letter and the large void it left in his life. He did not need this now, they were going into action tomorrow.

He had thought that all he had to do was convince her to love him and not just the title and the estate. But now he had a rival. He had not been aware of the effect Pamuk had had on Mary. But now in hindsight, he could see how the Turk had swept Mary off her feet, literally he thought bitterly, in a matter of a few hours while in the same number of months all he had won from Mary was the odd cutting remark. What girl would not choose to fall in love with a handsome, dashing, exotic, aristocratic diplomat over a slightly pudgy, stodgy middle class solicitor even if the latter had some bright prospects.

And a dead rival at that. With a live rival he might have a chance to win Mary over. The passage of time would dim Pamuk's attractions and perhaps make his own stolid virtues more attractive. Although to be fair if Pamuk had lived they may have ran off to Turkey; the thought of Mary in a harem brought another bitter smile; and been on the other side in this godforsaken war. But a dead rival held all the trumps. Her memory would burnish all Pamuk's virtues while washing away all his vices. He would never be able to compete.

And now that he knew the whole story he could understand why his relationship with Mary had ebbed and flowed so much. Times like this past Christmas the memory of the Turk must have been fading while last summer he had been no better than an impudent suitor pressing his suit on a widow while she was still in mourning. He must of seemed such a cad to Mary for rejecting her because he thought her to be crassly material when in fact she had been so ambivalent because of her lost love.

Should he then settle? After all most law suits are settled, why not love suits. Settle for being Mary's second choice, her fall back position, hoping always that she would not pine for what might have been , but would be content with what was. In this he would be no different from someone who married one of the many widows being created by this war.

But there would always be the fear that someone, some other Lancelot, would come along and plumb the depths of Mary's passion, depths that she clearly had but which she had never revealed to him. Could he cope with that?

Would Arthur and Guinevere have lived happily ever after if Lancelot had died before they married?

He smiled at himself for the comparison. He was not the once and future King, at best he was once the future Earl.

He sighed and wrote:

"My dearest Mary:

There is no need to apologize to me. It is me that must apologize to you for my boorish behaviour in pressing you when you were in mourning for your lost love.

As for your 'reputation', what was done was done for love, and I think none the less of you for it. True love must prevail though the heavens fall.

Do not doubt my love for you. I know you have a great affection for me and it is my fondest hope that in the fullness of time it will grow into something more sublime.

Until then, I remain always

Faithfully yours,

Matthew"

He expressed hope. But was there hope? Faint hope perhaps. Likely a forlorn hope. He sealed the envelope. If it happened, it happened. The die had been cast. But for now there was no future, only the moment.


	8. Ships that pass in the night

Chapter 8: Ships that pass in the night

Downton

November 3, 1915

Mary was rather enjoying toying with Mr. Bradley. It was the culmination of 10 months hard work on her part learning the principles of accounting and then applying them to the business that was Downton Abbey. If this matter of the entail did not work itself out satisfactorily then she fancied that she might take her settlement and make her own way in the world of business rather than entering into a marriage with some drone. Now that marriage to ... she brought her attention back to the matter at hand.

"Last year we sold you 10,000 bushels of malting barley at below market prices because of the special business relationship my family has had with your family." Mary began.

"Yes indeed, Bradley Brewery has been purchasing Downton Abbey's malting barley for generations" Mr. Bradley agreed "and what with the prices going up so sharply with the declaration of war your consideration is greatly appreciated.". He gave Mary an approving smile.

"But you only used 9,000 bushels in brewing your beer".

Mr. Bradley narrowed his gaze at her "How do you know that?"

"Because you turned around and sold 1,000 bushels at market price, making a healthy profit in the process".

Mr. Bradley started to bluster "But, but we passed it on ..."

"No you did not, I am reliably informed" by Carson Mary thought, who liked his periodic tipple. "You sold your beer to pubs for the same price as other brewers. No, you put the profit in your own pocket. I am here to let you know that you will no longer profiteer at the expense of Down Abbey; but we may continue to do business subject to two conditions..

Firstly you will pay full market price, terms cash FOB our granary."

Mr. Bradley stared at her then shook his head.. She stood up and started walking to the door.

"Oh, I should have mentioned that this is limited time offer ... limited by the time it takes me to leave this office". Mary put her hand on the doorknob.

"Wait" Mr. Bradley pleaded "What is your second condition".

Mary smiled to herself and sat down again. "Every Friday you will donate a keg of your best to the patient's mess at Downton Abbey".

Mr. Bradley stared at her. "Agreed" he said with resignation.

Mary had been daydreaming about her triumph while her mother and grandmother bickered over tea when she thought she heard...

"Pardon me?" .

"Matthew is not coming home on leave for Christmas" said Cora.

Mary felt a twinge inside. She looked at her mother. "How do you know?"

"Isobel told me"

Although she could have moved into the Dower House when Edith had gone into exile, Mary had decided to stay in Crawley House with Isobel. Isobel had said nothing to her about Matthew not coming, but that was not surprising as Matthew was the one subject they did not talk much about.

"Oh, that is too bad." Mary said as noncommittally as possible.

"Mary, is there something you should be telling us?" asked her grandmother.

The three of them were sitting in the small parlour in the Dower House. Violet and Cora looked expectantly at her.

"No, not really" Mary evaded. She knew what was coming and did not look forward to it.

"It has been more than half a year since you were going to write to Matthew about Edith's letter. We have not wanted to interfere but clearly something has happened between the two of you "said her mother "and it certainly is affecting you".

"Yes" her grandmother interjected "if you get any thinner and paler you will look like Death's granddaughter".

"So what exactly did you tell him?" asked her mother.

Mary looked at her mother and grandmother. Not wanted to interfere indeed. Although she was surprised it had taken them so long to confront her. She wondered what had triggered this meeting. She told them what she had written.

"You did not!" Violet protested, "Surely not that baldly".

Mary could only nod her assent.

"Has he not responded?" asked Cora.

"He did reply" and Mary went over to her briefcase, which she needed now more than a handbag now that she was a woman of business and took out the letter. She read it almost every day. It had been unfolded and refolded so many times that the ink was being worn away where the paper creased.

She handed it to her mother who read it and then gave it to Violet.

Violet shook her head "Notwithstanding all the evidence presented by Edith and corroborated by your own confession that you are nothing more than a silly tramp who leapt into bed with the first greasy foreigner who worked his oily charms upon you; notwithstanding all that, this poor lovestruck fool" Violet waved the letter around "is so in love with you that he has constructed some medieval fantasy with you as the tragic heroine. I hope you let him down gently".

They looked at her. She tried to say nothing but the way they held their gaze forced her to say "I have not replied to him". Give me back my letter and let me get away from here she thought.

"Not at all? In all this time you have not written to him?" asked Cora astonished.

Mary nodded, her head down, she was starting to tear up.

"And what has Matthew done?" asked Cora.

"He wrote three more times" Mary had started crying, "but I cannot write back, I do not know what to say, how to explain, I ..."

Cora hugged her.

"So that explains why he is not coming." said Violet "You realize your silence is your acquiescence to what he has written. He thinks you love another so there is nothing for him to do but go off as a knight-errant on some doomed quest. Not a healthy thing to do in the middle of a war. And it explains what Robert said in his last letter."

"What? What did father say ?" asked Mary.

"He said he had spoken to Matthew's Colonel who mistakenly thought Matthew was his son, and who told him how he must be proud be to have such a brave warrior for a son. That Matthew had won the Military Cross and had been recommended for another." said Cora. She looked at Mary. "This was a surprise to your father. Has Isobel said anything to you about Matthew winning any medals?"

"No, we hardly ever talk about him." Mary thought "No wait, she said he had mentioned getting a gong for being best boy in the battalion."

"You know they do not hand out Military Crosses for doing a good job of organizing a regimental dinner" said Violet sharply.

"So anyway Robert invited Matthew to lunch" Cora continued, trying to keep Mary and Violet focused. "He says that they had a pleasant lunch but Matthew downplayed getting the medal and refused outright to discuss you" she looked at Mary "and then he, Matthew, let it drop that he and a friend were thinking of emigrating to western Canada after the war. Apparently his battalion has fought along side some Canadians and he, Matthew, had gotten to know and like them. Matthew said if he then inherited he would lease Down Abbey to me for a pound a year on a 99 year lease."

"So Robert asked us to find out from you what was going on between you and Matthew. He had thought things were going so well between the two of you last Christmas."

Mary shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She did not know what to say. She ached.

"And he said that he feared Matthew was too brave. That there was enough death in the War that Matthew did not have to go looking for it. That in theory it was nice to have a dead hero in the family to be proud of but it would be better in practice to have a live heir to carry on the family."

"I do not know what to do" sobbed Mary.

Violet got up and walked over to Mary and put hand on Mary's shoulder.

"At this late stage, a letter will not do anymore. We are all going to have to pray that he makes it back here and then you are going to tell how you feel." Violet squeezed Mary's shoulder. "True love will prevail" and she left the room.


	9. Name, Rank and Serial Number

A/N: Wherein a major new character is introduced. Matthew needs a best friend, sidekick, confidant, wingman, Every Darcy needs a Bingley.

Chapter 9: Name, Rank and Serial Number

Downton

April 23, 1916

Matthew and his friend and fellow major, Bert Hastings, were walking behind Isobel on the way to surprise the inhabitants of the Dower House. Isobel had sent word on ahead that she was bringing "two old friends from Manchester" for dinner.

Matthew and Bert had received a fortnight's days Easter leave and instead of spending it in Paris had decided to visit Manchester. Matthew had tried to convince his mother to come to Manchester to see him but she had refused. If he wanted to see her he would have to come to Downton and besides, he would have to see them, and her, eventually. So here he was. Bert had agreed to stay two nights in Downton and then it was off to the fleshpots of Manchester for him.

Mary had not been at Crowley House when they arrived which had been a relief to Matthew. They were sleeping in the servants' quarters which gave Bert a chance to rag on Matthew about being invited to stay at an Earl's estate and then being stowed below stairs.

Bert had agreed to come to Downton only because he was curious to see the daughter of the Great House whom had done so much to hurt his friend. He already knew it was not Sybil; he had met her while visiting Matthew at the army hospital when Matthew had been laid up that time for the concussion. He had liked her and even flirted with her a bit until Matthew had warned him off, telling him of her relationship with the family chauffeur. It was either Edith or Mary.

Molesley announced them: "Mrs. Isobel Crawley and ..." he paused "and Majors Albert Hastings and ..." he paused again "Matthew Crawley".

Bert found himself the centre of attention for the smallest of intervals before the three ladies in the room turned their attention to Matthew. He watched as the two older ladies cooed over Matthew and then they parted and his friend was face to face with the young lady. If pressed on cross examination Bert would have sworn that they both were raising their hands to embrace each other when they both consciously changed the gesture to an awkward half bow over an outstretched hand.

Matthew introduced Bert to them in turn, Lady Violet, Lady Cora and Lady Mary.

Bert knew now it was Lady Mary whom his friend loved and who had somehow broken his heart. The way they had just met was all the confirmation he required. He studied her. Beautiful but in an austere way. She was thin, too thin for his taste. And she looked tired as if her war had been a hard one too.

And then she smiled at him and said "we are dining en famille, please called me Mary" and he could appreciate her power of enchantment over Matthew.

Lady Violet directed Matthew to take the seat at the end of the table. This put Matthew next to Mary who sat on his left. From his vantage point at the other end of the table Bert watched the two of them. One would watch the other when he or she was looking elsewhere and then observer and observed would switch. It was like watching a lawn tennis match, the score love all. Occasionally their eyes would meet and then they would both look down or away.

"Major, Matthew has been quite bashful about telling us about how he won his medal and we were wondering if you might enlighten us" asked Violet "in fact I see you have the same ribbon, did you win your medal at the same time?"

Bert considered her request. He could see Matthew shaking his head no almost imperceptibly. He saw that Mary observed this as well. "No, I am sorry that I cannot. It really is not a fit story to relate over dinner. Besides" he smiled and nodded towards Matthew "he tells the story so much better than I".

He was saved from more by the sudden arrival of General Crawley whose train had been delayed by a derailment.

Later that night, when they had made it back to Crawley House he asked Matthew "So what is the story with you and Mary?".

Matthew looked at him said "Long story". He did not elaborate.

Bert left it at that.

Matthew changed the subject "The general and I are going to tour the Estate tomorrow morning and see how things are getting along. Would you like to come?"

Bert sensed that Matthew and the general probably had things to discuss and his presence would only inhibit them. "No thanks, I think I will enjoy sleeping in till noon. Good night" and he turned off the light.

Bert slept in until almost noon. He got up very much refreshed. A long, quiet uninterrupted night in a soft bed was heaven. He performed his morning ablutions and then went looking for something to eat. He found a note from Matthew's mother saying that Matthew and the General would meet him at the Dower House for lunch at noon. He looked at the clock, he had better get a move on, he did not want to keep a general waiting, even one not in his chain of command.

Mary was complaining to her mother and grandmother. "I do not see why they'' meaning her father and Matthew, she could not bear to say the latter's name, "can go off on a tour of the Estate, without me, when I am the one who is actually running the Estate, and when they come back they will have a long list of things that should be done or not done or done differently all without regard to the fact that with this war on there is not enough money or men or materials to do anything more then keep it together."

Mary paused, getting her breath together to continue her tirade when her mother interjected "Mary, they are not critiquing your work, the two of them are just trying to get connected to the land once more. I doubt if they will talk any business at all. Besides, you should do what generations of Crawley women have done before you, let them have their say, murmur something noncommittal in a sweet voice and then do what is right."

Her grandmother nodded.

Just then Molesley announced the arrival of Major Hastings.

Lady Cora smiled at him. "Robert and Matthew have sent their regrets as they will not be back in time for lunch. So you will be lunching with just the three of us".

Bert hesitated. This was not good. He could see this turning into a walk through a minefield. He tried to get out of it. "I am sorry to hear that. Well, I will not intrude on your ladies' lunch, I will just ..." and started to sidle towards the door.

"Nonsense" said Lady Cora as she took his arm. "We would love to lunch with you" and lead him into the dining room.

Lunch was a surprisingly pleasant affair with both the older ladies making small talk, only Lady Mary not saying anything, and Bert felt he was almost home free when, over dessert, the conversation shifted to a dangerous quadrant.

"You know Major" Lady Cora smiled at him "Matthew's letters home to me and Lady Violet are surprisingly vague about what he is doing and we were wondering if you could enlighten us".

Lady Violet nodded at this. Lady Mary appeared to be examining the pattern on her plate.

Interesting, Matthew writes to the older ladies. Bert tried to evade the question "Well, I cannot say anything about operations ..."

"Oh we are not interested in military secrets" Lady Violet said sharply.

"Or any of his confidences" Bert continued.

"We certainly do not want to to violate any confidentiality.; all we are asking for is a sense of what soldiering is like for Matthew" Lady Cora reassured him. "You both seem to have excelled at it, why less than two years ago you were civilians and now you are both majors."

"Promotions are mostly a matter of luck" replied Bert. "Not merit".

"Lucky to be chosen?" asked Lady Violet.

"No, lucky to stay alive. I apologize for being so blunt but at the lower end of the chain of command vacancies open up quite rapidly. Of the four of us who shared a tent during officer training only Matthew and I remain. In another two years there will only be one of us." Not might but will.

The ladies digested this in silence. Bert thought in his own rude way he had put an end to the conversation but Lady Cora decided to soldier on.

"But lucky or not, is Matthew a good officer?"

Bert relaxed. This may not be so bad. "He is well respected by his fellow officers and loved by his men."

"Loved?" asked Lady Violet "that seems to be a strange word to use".

"He takes care of the welfare of his men before he takes care of his own. He does the best he can to see that they are well fed and well equipped. He is always firm but fair, never arbitrary. He never asks them to do anything he will not do himself. They will follow him to hell if he asks" and have Bert thought. Matthew's company was C Company and the men called themselves Crawley's Cats. If Matthew announced he was going to go pirating after the war most of the men would follow him.

"Does he have a speciality?" asked Lady Cora.

There's the rub thought Bert. How do I tell you that your Matthew is a trench raider par excellence. At night he and his company blacken their faces and armed with trench knives and small arms they creep across no mans land to the German trenches. There they kill the sentries and anyone else they encounter as silently as they can, maybe kidnap an officer and grab as many papers and maps as they can before blowing up the place. Then they retreat back to our lines as fast as they can, usually while being shot at with everything the Germans can muster. It was as close to the blood and gore of medieval warfare as you could get in this age of the machine gun.

Crawleys would not be aristocrats now if some ancestor had not been a warrior and Matthew certainly had inherited the warrior spirit although you would not know it just looking at him. He looked at the house cat curled up asleep on the window seat. Yes ladies, he thought, your Matthew is a sweet pet during the day and a killer by night.

"Ah ... I would say that in general terms he is in reconnaissance, he gathers information for military intelligence. I really cannot say more" Bert could see that they were not satisfied but what could he say. There were things about Matthew they should never know.

"But can you tell us whether he is any good at it?" asked Lady Violet.

"Oh quite good" replied Bert, Matthew has survived this long after all. "He has actually taught reconnaissance techniques to other officers". And quite the courses they were, including ten ways to silently kill a sentry and how to drag a reluctant captured German officer back to our own lines.

"What would you consider to be his best trait as a soldier?" asked Lady Cora.

Bert thought carefully. "His calmness".

This finally triggered a response in the younger lady. "Calmness? I would have thought bravery or some other martial trait" said Lady Mary.

Somewhat sarcastically thought Bert. He stared at her. I bet you broke his heart about a year ago. Because that's when he became so brave, too brave for his own good or maybe he just didn't care anymore. Matthew is good at what he does, frighteningly so, but he volunteers too much, he's only going to be able to spin out his thread of luck so long before Atropos cuts it. Under his gaze Lady Mary turned her head away, somewhat abashed at the flippancy of her remark.

"If you can keep your head" quoted Bert. "Last night someone asked about Matthew's medal. I received mine for the same action" He looked down and fingered the white and purple ribbon."At Ypres the Germans used gas on us. It was horrible. The gas was heavier than the air so it sank into the trenches. All of a sudden men started choking to death. So the men jumped out of the trenches and were cut down by machine gun fire. Panic ensued. Our French allies were in a rout. And Matthew was there, he was calm, he keep our men in good order and we held the line until we were relieved by the Canadians." He looked at Lady Mary. "You wanted bravery. His calmness made me brave. If he had not been there I probably would have cut and run myself."

The bitterness of Bert's tone hung in the air. The four of them sat silent for a long minute.

Lady Cora tried to lighten things up."What does Matthew do with his spare time when the army does not require his services?"

"I imagine he indulges in the usual soldierly vices" sniffed Lady Violet.

"Not at all" Bert defended his friend. "He does not drink to excess, he can make a glass of wine last all evening and he certainly does not carouse" Bert thought guiltily about the flask in his own pocket. Nor does he go to the blue light establishments like some of us Bert thought but did not say. "He plays some cards."

"Whist?" asked Lady Violet.

"Poker actually, it's an American card game some American pilots flying with the French taught us" and Matthew is very good at it, his calmness helped him immensely in bluffing.

"Oh my father loved poker" said Lady Cora. Lady Violet rolled her eyes.

"But mostly he reads or fools around with his water colours" finished Bert.

"He paints?" said Lady Mary with a tone of disbelief.

Don't you know anything about him at all thought Bert. "Yes, there was a painting set in the Battalion's recreation gear and Matthew gave it a whirl. It allows him to go off on his own and enjoy some some solitude, a rare thing in the middle of a war. He mostly does landscapes, old buildings and such. He brought some home with him". Bert bet himself Lady Mary would be taking a look at those paintings before too long.

"Does he have any friends over there .. I mean ...other than army colleagues? asked Lady Cora.

Bert looked at her. What was she driving at? "I am sorry, I do not understand?"

"Ah ... lady friends" Lady Cora stammered. Lady Mary glared at her.

So that is what this whole cross examination has been leading up to. Has Matthew found another? "The only lady that I know that he is friends with is your daughter Sybil and when I saw them together you might say she was acting in her army capacity anyway"

"You met Sybil and what do you mean acting in her army capacity?" interjected Lady Violet.

Oh no, Matthew you didn't tell them you had been wounded. "Yes, I met her when I was visiting Matthew in hospital, she was one of his nurses".

"And why exactly was Matthew in hospital?" asked Lady Mary.

Bert looked carefully at her. He was about to be cross examined and he did not relish the thought. "I suppose it is too late to leave this for Matthew to explain" he said with faint hope.

"Answer the question" commanded Lady Mary.

"It wasn't the bayonet wound; I don't remember any pretty nurses at the hospital when he got shot" Lady Mary was glaring at him like he had shot Matthew himself "just a flesh wound really; so it must have been the concussion, he was in hospital for four or five days that time".

"Matthew was wounded three times?" said Lady Mary.

"Yes, but the first two were mere bagatelles, nothing more than scratches" said Bert. He hoped he was well out of range before Lady Mary saw the extent of those scratches.

"How bad was the concussion" continued Lady Mary.

"Well a shell took out the Battalion's officers' mess. It killed our colonel and five other officers. When we dug Matthew out he was unconscious, blood all over his face – scalp wounds bleed profusely" he tried to reassure the ladies. "We thought he had bought it but he was still breathing so we got to hospital..."

"Bought what?" interjected Lady Violet.

"Ah, the farm" explained Bert "a soldier's saying, when someone was has been killed he was bought the farm" he could see she was still puzzled "namely a grave plot. Anyway long story short. He was in hospital a few days, Lady Sybil was one of his nurses, and they released him back to duty. He is remarkably hardheaded you know" This brought nods of agreement.

Bert could see that Lady Mary was still not satisfied. "Any further questions you might have you will have to address to Matthew directly. I have already said too much. Now if you ladies would excuse me ... " and he started to get up.

Lady Cora held up her hand to stop him. "Just one more thing if you do not mind, my husband mentioned that Matthew had said something about emigrating to Canada after the war..."

"Oh I would not put much store in that, soldiers are always talking about what they would do after the war." Bert assured her. He was not going to tell them that Matthew felt there was no reason for him to come back here after the war. Matthew could tell them that himself. Bert stood up. "Ladies, I would like to thank you for an excellent luncheon. I apologize for any upset I may have caused with this talk of war. Now if you will excuse me" He gave them a slight bow and headed for the door.

Later, after Mary had left, Violet said to Cora "I fear that Matthew is going out of his way to purchase a farm. If we continue to wait for these off kilter lovers to connect it is going to end up like one of those Italian operas with bodies all over the stage. It is time for direct action. Mary said she would be taking dinner with Isobel at the hospital so we should speak to Matthew ourselves."

"Yes" agreed Cora "waiting on Mary to do the right thing does not appear to be working. I will get Robert to take Major Hastings somewhere after dinner."

"Excellent, sometimes the stars need to be put in their proper courses" concluded Violet.


	10. That Wrath that falls but never flies

Chapter 10: That Wrath that falls but never flies

Downton Abbey

April 24, 1916

Matthew and Bert were walking to Downton Abbey after having had dinner at the Dower House with the General, his wife and mother. Both Mary and Matthew's mother had not been present and the absence of Mary in particular had allowed the dinner conversation to flow quite pleasantly, there being no awkward pauses when it might have washed over the shoals of their relationship.

After dinner Matthew had had a very interesting talk with Violet and Cora while the General and Bert had gone off to smoke cigars and talk shop.

Now Matthew and Bert were going to met Isobel who was going to give them a tour of the Convalescent Hospital. Matthew was pensive as they walked thinking about what the ladies had said to him.

"You didn't tell anyone here that you were wounded" said Bert.

"No I didn't, I didn't want to worry them" Matthew stopped and looked at Bert "how would you know that?"

Bert said nothing, just looked at his shoes.

"So how did the cat get out of the bag?" asked Matthew.

"Well over lunch I mentioned that I had met Lady Sybil and they were curious about the circumstances and well you can guess the rest. They were quite persuasive."

"Is that all you said?"

"Well I told them about the medal."

Matthew shook his head at the folly of his friend. "I only hope that when the law finally catches up to you for all your misdeeds you plead guilty and beg for mercy because you will never be able to lie your way out of it. I imagine my mother knows by now."

"I would think that is a safe assumption" agreed Bert, "Say I think I will skip the tour and go pack. I'm catching the early train after all".

"Not so fast" said Matthew. "If you can stand up to hordes of Huns you can stand up to my mother. I don't know what you're afraid of. You're just an innocent bystander."

They walked on in silence.

As Matthew dreaded his mother was waiting for them at the front entrance.

"You were wounded" she accused him. "How many times" she demanded and before he could answer commanded "Come with me" and she started to lead him down a corridor. Bert tried to hang back but Isobel snapped at him "Bert Hastings you're just as guilty as him, come along!"

They ended up in a small room which was obviously now an examination room.

"Take off your jacket and shirt" Isobel commanded in such a tone that Bert started to undo his buttons before he realized she just meant Matthew.

"Mother!" protested Matthew.

"Don't mother me" snapped Isobel.

Matthew took off his jacket and shirt, handing them to Bert with a look that said we'll speak later.

The machine gun bullet had not hit him square rather it had torn a groove across the outer side of his upper right arm. Isobel tsked about the quality of the stitching and the scar that was left.

"Mother, the medical people had more urgent cases, they did the best they could for me in the circumstances".

The bayonet scar was more spectacular. The German private had thrust at Matthew too high. If he had thrust lower Matthew would have been dead, but he had thrust high and the point of the bayonet had defected off of the bible in Matthew's pocket, the blade had then slid down Matthew's ribs leaving a slice of Matthew's left side hanging down. Before he had another chance Matthew had shot him.

Isobel made Matthew lift his arm and turn around as she traced the parabolic course of the scar. As Matthew turned he saw Mary standing in the door watching, whited faced, her mouth shaped "oh". Before he could say anything she was gone.

"Now tell me about this concussion" commanded Isobel.

Mary was moving along the second floor hall towards the staircase. She had questions for Isobel about last month's reports but Isobel was showing him and his friend around and she really did not want to see him. She did not know what to say, she was afraid she would say the wrong thing, some sarcastic comment about something so horrible as, as those wounds. She shook her head and not paying any attention almost strode into Captain Heep.

Heep was a pilot who would not fly. He was a patient at the Convalescent Hospital for some unspecified psychological problems which prevented him from flying. He spent his days in bed and his nights drinking alcohol someone was smuggling in to him and terrorizing the night nurses. Mary felt he was malingering and that he should be send to the trenches. No flying there. Problem solved. But he enjoyed the patronage of someone high in the government who so far had resisted the efforts of the staff to have him discharged from the hospital. Mary avoided him whenever she could.

"Well Mary quite contrary. This is your lucky night" Heep leered at her.

Mary froze. Heep moved closer to her, gesturing with a bottle of some brown liquid. She backed up until her back was against the wall.

Heep leaned in towards her. "Everyone says you're the ice queen but I've got something here that will melt you."

Mary could smell his horrid drunken breath upon her. No, no she thought.

Heep continued "My brother tells me you're the slutty sister and you like it a little rough. I reckon you've been saving it for some handsome flyboy like yours truly. How about it" and he reached out and squeezed her breast.

Mary screamed. Before she could scream again Heep disappeared. She blinked and looked around. Matthew had Heep by the back of the neck and had rammed him face first into the upright of the door. Matthew then flung Heep down the stairs and leapt after him.

"She was asking for it" Heep manged to croak before Matthew banged his head on the landing. Heep shut up.

Mary had slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor.

In a cold clear voice Matthew commanded "Mother see to Mary. Carson find me a knife." He gave Heep a lupine grin. Heep wet his pants..

Carson overruled him. "Major Crawley you go see to Lady Mary. Mrs. Crawley if you would, please go fetch some orderlies and a strait jacket. Major Hastings and I will watch this .." Carson curled his lip "this personage until then."

Bert pulled Matthew off of Heep. No one challenged the butler's taking of command. Isobel hurried away down the hall. Bert stood over Heep and gave him a little kick to remind him to stay quiet. Matthew ran up the stairs to Mary, grasped her by both shoulders and pulled her up to him. She sobbed into his chest as he hugged her.

"It's OK. I'm here. You're safe" Matthew reassured her.

"Oh Matthew I thought it was like last time all over ..."

"Hush, don't say anything" and Matthew held her tighter.

Isobel arrived with the orderlies who trussed Heep up and took him away.

Isobel came up the stairs to speak to them..

"We will see that Heep is transferred out of here by tomorrow. In the meantime Matthew you take Mary home. Get her coat and then wait for me by the main door. I will get something to help her sleep"

When Mary protested Isobel reached out and squeezed her arm. "A dreamless sleep is the best thing for you tonight dear".

Matthew lead Mary down the stairs, his arm still around her. Carson went to fetch her coat. Bert told them that he would walk Isobel home after her shift ended.

Waiting for Isobel at the main door, his arm still around her as if she would fall through the floor if he let her go, Matthew said "I'll go ring for Molesley to bring the Rolls around".

"No, I would rather walk, I can only stand so much excitement on one night" Mary said with a small smile.

Matthew grinned at her "Are you sure. I can probably carry you half way but I'll have to drag you the rest of the way."

"I will chance it, let us go. Now"

They were just heading down the drive when Isobel caught up to them waving a small paper packet.

"Mary when you get home take these two pills with some warm milk. They will knock you right out."

Isobel watched them, Mary nestled under Matthew's arm, until they were out of sight.

They walked in silence until they were half way between the Great House and the village.

"You know this walk is familiar to me" Matthew said to her "I am sure I once took a walk like this, in the winter it was, with a most extraordinary young lady. You might know her, she ..."

Mary rounded on him. "Don't tease me! I do not deserve it. I am not whom you think, I am soiled goods, I ..." and she started to cry.

Matthew hugged her. "Don't worry I ..."

She pushed him away and when he tried to pull her back into his embrace she grabbed the outside of his arms to hold him at bay.

"You do not know the whole story"

"Yes, I do." Matthew spoke in the same cold, clear voice he had used earlier. "Your mother and grandmother told me the whole thing this evening. You were seduced plain and simple. There was no love involved. Just lust. It wounded you; not in body but in spirit. And you bear the scar to this day. And they told me that's why you haven't written me."

Each word he spoke was like a blow. She dropped her hands from his arms and stood before him, her head bowed, silently weeping.

Matthew continued "You saw my scars today. What did you think?"

He waited until she finally replied "They were horrid" in a small voice.

"Do you think any less of me for them?"

"No, of course not, if anything I ..." her voice trailed off.

"Then why should I think any less of you?". There was an angry edge to his voice. "All I ask is that you don't do it again".

"I won't".

"Good, then never speak of it again." He turned away from her and started to walk away.

"Wait! Don't be angry with me!" Mary cried out.

He turned back to her. His tone softened. "I am not angry with you. I am angry with myself. I asked you to make a promise when I cannot make the same promise to you. I cannot promise you I will not be wounded again. I cannot promise you I will always be here for you."

She looked at him shyly. "But you are here now" and she held her arms out to him. And he went to her.

After a time, without any further words passing between them, they reached a state of tranquillity.

They starting walking back to Downton, Matthew's arm around her.

After awhile he looked at her. "You know your grandmother told me tonight that if I didn't ask you to marry me I was a damn fool"

"She is certainly taking advantage of her dotage" Mary smiled.

"And she said you would be a damn fool if you didn't say yes".

Mary stopped and stared at him. "Well, are you a damn fool?"

"No, are you?"

"No".

"Well then, that is settled" said Matthew. He started to walking again.

"Wait a minute, don't solicitors usually make things a little more formal?"

"There is such a thing as an implied contract" said Matthew "however, if you want the full signed, sealed and delivered version" and he turned and knelt in front of her. Taking her hands in his he said "Lady Mary Crawley, may I have your hand in marriage?"

She looked down at him. "Yes" and she started to cry again. She pulled him up and they kissed.

He gave her his handkerchief "You have a remarkable capacity for tears" and asked "Can you walk?"

"Yes, if you hold me up"

They slowly walked back to Crawley House leaning on each other.

Inside the house Matthew lit a lamp and they went upstairs. Matthew lit the lamp in Mary's, his old, room.

"You get ready for bed and I'll go make some cocoa so you can take those pills."

"I don't really need ..." Mary protested.

"Do I have to use my parade ground voice on you?" asked Matthew "you had better be in bed by the time I get back or there will be consequences".

Mary got ready for bed. She put on her old favourite flannel nightgown the one she wore on the coldest of winter nights. Coming out of the bathroom she could hear him banging around in the kitchen even though it was two floors below. She even heard what she could only characterize as soldierly language. She got into bed when she heard him coming up the stairs and pulled the covers up..

Matthew had a tray with two mugs of cocoa and a glass of water on it. It was obvious cocoa had slopped over the edges of the mugs and was sloshing around on the tray.

"Here" and he handed her the glass of water and the two pink pills "I thought the pills would go down better with water."

He watched her carefully to make sure she swallowed the pills. He then handed one of the mugs, took the chair from the desk, put it beside the bed, sat on it and picked up the other mug.

"A toast" he waved his mug gently at her "to us, to our future".

She clinked her mug against his and then took a sip. She almost spit it out

"What did you put in this?"

"Well I tried to put an equal amount of cocoa and sugar in, I may have been a little off on one or the other". He sounded a little hurt that she didn't appreciate his culinary efforts.

"Well it is a little sweet" she said thinking that there goes the sugar ration for the rest of the month. She then surprised herself, and charmed Matthew, with a great and most unladylike yawn.

"Here give me that" said Matthew as he took her mug. "Lie down and I will tuck you in."

Mary lay on her side facing him. She was getting very sleepy all of a sudden. He pulled the covers up and she reached out, took his left hand and put it under her cheek. "Come sit on the bed beside me".

He sat beside her and with his right hand stroked her head until she fell asleep. He sat there and watched her. He had a bittersweet feeling. I have your love but do I have your loyalty? Time will tell. The cards have been dealt and the hand must be played out..

He tried to take his hand out from underneath her head but she gripped it tighter with her own left hand and she snuggled up closer to his hip as she lay there.

At least an hour passed before she relaxed enough to let go of his hand so he could gently pull it out.

His left hand had long ago fallen asleep and he flexed it as he tried to get blood flowing through it again.

He looked at her left hand beside the pillow and then remembered what her mother had given him. Better late than never he thought. He picked up her left hand.

Mary woke feeling quite happy although she couldn't say why exactly. From the amount of sunlight coming in the window it had to be almost noon. There was someone sitting in the chair beside the bed. She blinked, it was her mother.

"Matthew?" she asked.

"He's gone" said Cora.

"Gone?" cried Mary, her mood crashing "Oh he can't have left me, not after last night!"

"Mary it has nothing to do with you" said Cora holding up the morning newspaper with its headline 'Irish Revolt'. "Your father saw this and then got two letters in the post which greatly upset him. He came by here, picked up Matthew and his friend and they were gone on the first train. It has to be something to do with Ireland. And he left you a quick note" which Cora handed to Mary.

Dearest Mary

Love you. Had to go. Duty calls. Make the arrangements. Until next leave.

Love Matthew

"Arrangements. Arrangements for what?" asked Mary.

Cora smiled at her daughter. "I would think that the answer is obvious" and she turned Mary's left hand over.

Mary looked at her hand. On her ring finger was her mother's engagement ring.


	11. Dulce et decorum est

Chapter 11: Dulce et decorum est

Liverpool bound train

April 25, 1916

Robert, Matthew and Bert were in a private compartment on the Manchester to Liverpool train. In Manchester they had bought every newspaper they could. The news, although sketchy, was the same in each. Rebels fighting for Irish independence had seized the Post Office and surrounding government offices. This news made the contents of the two letters Robert had received the day before all the more worrisome.

The first was a short letter from Robert's friend Freddie in the Army Office. He said that Sybil had been sent home on medical leave because of her pregnancy and that he had arranged for her to be transferred to the Downton Abbey Convalescent Hospital. He would also see that she did not face any charges because of the pregnancy. He closed with his advice to Robert to see that she got married as soon as possible. He would see that the required permission from the army was forthcoming.

That letter had been a body blow especially since no one in Downton had heard from Sybil about any pregnancy. The second letter had almost given Robert a stroke. It was Tom Branson, writing from Dublin. He and a number of other Irish soldiers had deserted from the British Army in order to fight for Irish independence. He made no apologies for that He did apologize for getting Sybil pregnant. He had not meant for her to follow him to Dublin but she had and now it was too dangerous for her and the baby. Branson wanted him to come get her. He was to check into the Edward Arms Hotel. Branson's sister, Catherine Nolan, was a chambermaid there and she would be watching for a guest named Crawley to check in. She would tell him the rest.

Robert said "I am sorry to drag the two you into this but I may need some assistance in Dublin".

"Oh you are not going to Dublin" Matthew interrupted "generals don't go on operations."

Robert tried to override Matthew but Matthew would have none of it. "You might say that Bert and I are specialists in extracting people in hostile situations. We will handle the Dublin end. You will stay in Liverpool and handle logistics. How good a friend is this Freddie?."

"The best".

"Can he get us carte blanche for Dublin?"

"I will have to go see him face to face in London but I am sure that he will. What else do you need?"

"A wad of cash"

"That is no problem, as soon as we get to Liverpool I will call on my bankers. What is your plan".

Bert replied "We check into the Edwards Arms, Mrs. Nolan contacts a slightly different Mr. Crawley" he nodded at Matthew "and takes us to wherever Branson has Lady Sybil stashed. She, Lady Sybil that is, either comes with us willingly or we stuff her in a canvas bag and drag her. We catch the next Liverpool ferry and meet you."

Matthew nodded his agreement. "That is about it. Now what are your plans for Sybil and the baby after you get her back?"

"I do not know" replied Robert "I suppose the correct thing would be to send her to Coventry and send the baby to an orphanage but ...". The Earl looked defeated.

"But you will instead welcome your prodigal daughter with open arms and you will spoil your first grandchild no end as your revenge on her" said Matthew with more than a hint of command in his voice. "And I certainly would not want to see kin of mine turned out" he concluded.

Robert looked at the cold eyed man across from him. There was an underlying threat in that last. The war had brought out something hard in Matthew. "Yes I suppose I shall" smiled Robert "it is too late to stop indulging her now".

The two men looked each in the eyes and nodded. They had an understanding.

Edward Arms Hotel, Dublin

April 26, 1916

When Matthew and Bert checked in the clerk said they were expected and he gave them adjoining rooms on the second floor at the back of the hotel. The hotel was well within the British held section of the city but they could hear the artillery well enough. The Army was shelling the Post Office.

There was a telegram waiting for them: "CB granted. With OOD Dublin Castle. No Qs asked"

They hadn't been sitting in Matthew's room for more than fifteen minutes before a knock came on the door. It was a chamber maid with fresh linen. Matthew let her in the room.

She looked at the two army officers. "Mr. Crawley?" she asked.

"That's me" said Matthew. He introduced Bert."And you are?"

"Catherine Nolan, Tom's sister. I was expecting an older gentleman."

"Sybil's father could not come, I am her cousin. I will be picking up Sybil".

"That's fine but there's a problem."

"Oh?'

"Sybil insisted on working in their first aid station. She's in the Post Office".

The two men looked at her in stunned silence.

"Well" said Bert "it's time to dust off Plan B".

"The latter part of Plan A still applies assuming we get get Sybil out of there." replied Matthew. "Mrs. Nolan, when the Army puts down this rebellion, as you know they will," she nodded in agreement, "they will be looking for everyone involved. Does Sybil have many belongings where they were staying."

"No, they were staying with me. She just has a change of clothes is all."

"Are they clothes a lady would wear?"

"No, they're just regular clothes like I would wear."

"If I give you the money can you get her some clothes like a lady would wear for say four days travel, one outfit should be what a lady in mourning would wear while travelling including the darkest full veil you can find and any toiletries etc. Plus a couple of valises".

"Yes. Ah _" Catherine hesitated "Can you take me to?, I'm not going to be too popular in my neighbourhood helping out an English lady."

"What about your family? asked Matthew.

"Tom is it. My husband was killed at Ypres. We never had any children. "

"And what are you going to do in England?"

"I'll get work in one of the war factories, save my money and book passage to America. I have had enough of Ireland and England and the Troubles to last me a lifetime".

Matthew looked at Bert who shrugged his shoulders. "OK, in for a penny, in for a pound." He gave Catherine a handful of bills. "Get yourself what a lady's maid would wear on a trip. You must have seen enough working in the hotel to know what you need. If this isn't enough money let me know. Oh and gather up anything and everything that may have either Tom's or Sybil's or for that matter, your, names, addresses or any other information on it and bring it back here. When we get Sybil out of there can we bring her back here without anyone seeing?"

"Oh yes I can smuggle her in the back way, the way the whores use. Oh and you shouldn't call her Sybil, she calls herself Violet Branson now".

Matthew smiled. If only her grandmother knew. He's pay money to see her reaction.

Dublin Castle, Dublin

April 26, 1916

Colonel Ridley looked at the order and at the two majors across the desk and then back at the order. He was to extend them all possible assistance and was not to ask any questions of them at all. He did not like it, not at all. Didn't London know he had bigger problems to handle? He looked at them again. Both were from the Manchester Regiment and had infantry flashes and combat ribbons. So they weren't from the Provost Marshall and perhaps they weren't from Military Intelligence. Order or not he had to ask "What is this all about?" waving the order at them.

"Sir, you really do not want to know" answered Major Crawley.

The Colonel sighed. "What do you want".

"Permission to interview various of your people; small arms and other gear; an unmarked auto with a discrete driver and permission to accompany your troops when they storm the Post Office building."

The Colonel halfheartedly protested "The rebels will surrender before that is necessary" but he could see that they didn't believe it, he didn't believe it himself.

"Very well, my orderly will see you get what you need"

Post Office, Dublin

April 28, 1916

Matthew and Bert were in a building across from the Post Office. In the past few days they had gone over the plans of the Post Office building and talked to anyone and everyone they could find who had any knowledge of it. They had concluded that the rebels' casualty station was most likely in the south west corner of the Post Office's basement. When the assault came that is where they would first look for Sybil.

And what an army sniper had just told them lead them to believe the assault must start forthwith. The sniper had said the Post Office was deserted, to him it looked like the rebels had abandoned it

Just then someone yelled "Look. It's on fire". Smoke was starting to billow out of the top floor of the Post Office.

Matthew and Bert ran to the company they had adopted. "Let's go" commanded Mathew as he ran across the street.

The major in charge of the company hesitated until Bert yelled at him "What are you waiting for?"; the major blew his whistle and led his company after the two visiting majors.

Matthew and Bert ran through the shattered main doors, down the hallway to the right, burst through the doors at the end of the hall and clattered down the stairs. The rest of the soldiers went up. No one shot at them. The rebels had gone. But there was smoke everywhere.

They found the casualty station. Or what was the casualty station. There were tables with bodies, blood and medical debris everywhere. But no one living. The rebels had taken their wounded with them.

Matthew stood still, defeated. How would they find Sybil now. Just then Bert hit him on his arm and held his finger to his lips."Listen!"

Amid the din of the soldiers charging through the building and the crackling of the fire there was the faint sounds of some one sobbing. It was coming from the far corner.

They ran in that direction and found Sybil crying over Tom Branson who was laid out on one of the tables.

"Matthew! What are you doing here?" gasped Sybil.

Before Matthew could reply Tom croaked out in a faint voice "I wrote your father and asked him to come get you. I'm glad he sent you Mr. Crawley although you cut it kind of fine"

"I'm not leaving you!" Sybil insisted.

"But I'm leaving you" said Tom. He was grey, he was starting to gasp, his eyes were glazing over and his abdomen was covered in blood. He did not have much time. Sybil was a nurse and the three men were all soldiers. They all knew the reality of what was about to happen. "I want you and the baby to be safe. I never meant for you to be involved in this. I'm sorry..." there was a long pause "I love you..." and he was gone.

"I love you" sobbed Sybil.

She moved to embrace Tom's body but Matthew spun her around.

"Listen. We have to get you out of here. Half the British Army is coming through that door any minute plus the building is burning down around us. Do you or Tom have any bags or coats or anything else?"

As he spoke Bert was rifling through Tom's pockets.

Sybil was not focusing on what Matthew was saying to her. Matthew shook her. "Pay attention! I'm only ask you one more time. Do you or Tom have any belongings not right here?" Sybil shook her head no. Bert signalled that he had found everything he could find.

"We are going to take you out of here like you are our prisoner. We have a big canvas bag which we can stuff you in and Bert will carry you out slung over his shoulder or we have a small canvas bag which we will put over your head" Sybil's eyes widened "so no one will see you and possibly recognize you" Matthew added. "Your choice".

"The small one" Sybil said.

"OK" Matthew slipped the small bag over her head. "Put your hands behind your back. I'm going to tie them together, to make this look real. I will take you by the arm to guide you. If you feel me squeeze your arm like this" Matthew squeezed her upper arm "Can you swear at me? Preferably in an Irish accent".

Sybil let loose with a string of invective in what to Matthew certainly sounded Irish. Matthew imagined she had heard everything there was to hear from wounded soldiers.

"Good. It'll help convince anyone who sees us that we are taking you against your will. Let's go" said Matthew as he lead Sybil to the door.

"You go on ahead" said Bert. "There's no point in letting a good fire go to waste". He piled up everything flammable he could find at hand around Tom's body, took one of the kerosene lamps and smashed it on the floor by the table. Fire flared up around Tom Branson's funeral pyre.

Bert quickly caught up to the other two. They followed the reverse route out of the building, the smoke was definitely thicker. No one challenged them. They went across to the building where they had awaited the start of the assault. Once Matthew and Sybil were safely in it Bert left them.

"Bert has gone to get the auto. We are going to leave the bag on until we get you into it." Matthew explained.

"Bert? Is that your friend from the hospital?" asked Sybil.

Matthew confirmed that it was. They waited a long fifteen minutes until Bert showed up driving the auto.

"Where's the driver?" asked Matthew.

"I sent him back to the motor pool. Need to know you know" answered Bert.

"Good point" said Matthew. He untied Sybil and took off the bag. He unceremoniously shoved her down in the seat. "Don't let anyone see you." He gave her a rather garish scarf and coat. "We are going to smuggle you into the hotel using the whores' entrance. And you have to look and smell the part" he gave her a small bottle of perfume. "sprinkle a bit of this on when you get out of the auto. Don't do it yet, we don't want the auto smelling like a whorehouse".

Bert let them out in the alley behind the hotel and then left to book passage on the night ferry to Liverpool. Sybil slipped into the coat, put the scarf on and sprinkled the perfume on liberally. She and Matthew went in the back door; Matthew tipped the porter as instructed by Catharine and they headed up the back stairs to Matthew's room.

Matthew left Sybil in Catherine's care to get cleaned up and dressed in Bert's roomt.

Bert showed up two hours later with a basket of food. They went back to Matthew's room. "I thought it best if we picniced rather than risking eating out" He had the tickets and was lucky to get them as there was a flood of Anglo-Irish refugees fleeing Eire. "They are checking everyone leaving, looking for rebels, so it is probably best if we embark separately. Sybil and Catherine as a grieving widow and her maid, that veil Catherine found should protect your identity well enough. If anyone gives you any trouble act the proper lady. Matthew and I will board a little behind you. If there's any problem we will create a diversion."

"Yes, pretend you are your grandmother" suggested Matthew "I understand that you have been taking her name in vain". That earned him a small smile from Sybil.

Liverpool bound ferry

April 29, 1916

There had been no problem boarding the ferry. The four of them met in Sybil's stateroom.

Matthew opened up one of the valises Catherine had purchased and dumped out the contents on the bed. Sybil gasped. There were all of her's and Tom's letters as well as photographs, other papers and Tom's wallet.

"What are you doing with all this? It's mine!" Sybil cried.

"Sybil. Listen carefully." said Matthew "After tonight Tom Branson ceases to exist as far as you are concerned. We are going to let you go through these one last time so you can grieve, then we are going to tear them up, put the shreds back in this valise, weigh it down and then toss it over the side."

Sybil glared at him.

"Sybil, we are not negotiating with you. Either you agree or we get rid of this stuff right way. Well?"

Two hours later the valise went over the side.

None of them really slept well during the passage. Instead of going out or ordering in they finished off the last of Bert's picnic supplies.

"Sybil, I don't mean to be blunt but before we dock we have to put together some sort of story that will give you some cover to hide behind." said Matthew "and some of the things I am going to say may be offensive to you. Were you and Branson married?"

"No"

"Do you intend to keep the baby?"

"Of course!" Sybil flared.

"Easy" Matthew held up his hand "we have to come up with a story which explains an illegitimate baby whose father is Tom Branson".

"Tom was a fine and good man and I am proud that he is the father of my baby!" said Sybil angrily.

"Tom is a dead Irish rebel, who deserted from the British Army and took up arms against the Crown. If he had lived and been captured he would have been shot for treason. And you aided and abetted him so if you don't want to raise your baby in one of His Majesty's prisons, not to mention destroying your family's reputation, you had better start cooperating".

Sybil had never seen Matthew so cold and so cruel. She started to cry. Matthew did nothing to comfort her and when Catherine went to he stopped her.

When Sybil finally composed herself Matthew started to continue but Bert interrupted him. "So the obvious solution is marry Sybil off to the putative father of the baby".

"But Tom is dead" cried Sybil.

"I didn't say actual, I said putative. Legally the fact that you are married to someone when your baby is born makes him the presumed father of the baby. And who is going to challenge a battle hardened army major who thus claims parentage of the child. There may be whispers but no one will dare say anything directly."

"But I can't marry Matthew, I couldn't do that to Mary" said Sybil.

"Don't worry about Mary and Matthew, they are already engaged ..."

"Engaged! Finally!" smiled Sybil "It's about time!"

"Later" gestured Matthew, he could see where his friend was heading.

"No, I meant me." said Bert. "Lady Sybil will you marry me?"

Sybil started to protest but Bert continued."Please hear me out. I can not offer you much more than my name, although if the war continues long enough you may receive a widow's pension and the child an orphan's pension. If I survive the war I can promise you a divorce before I head to Canada."

"No, I can't really, it is out of the question ..." protested Sybil "there's still Tom ...".

"Sybil, Tom is gone. Mourn him secretly in your heart if you must but outwardly you must get on with your life." said Matthew "Take Bert's offer, you'll not do better".

Sybil stood and walked to the porthole. She stood there looking out for a long time chewing her lip. Finally she turned to them. "OK, I will do it."

Liverpool

April 30, 1916

When they docked Bert took Catherine to book passage on the next passenger ship heading to the United States. He and Matthew had agreed, in recognition of her help, to give her the rest of the money they had received from Robert so she could leave for America right away. Unspoken was the understanding that Catherine leaving would take one more potential witness off the table.

Matthew and Sybil went to met Robert at his hotel. Sybil approached her father very tentatively and Matthew held his breath waiting for Robert's response. It appeared as if it would be quite formal but then Robert swept Sybil into his arms and Matthew could let his breath out..

The General had been harder to convince than Sybil about the advisability of the proposed shotgun wedding but eventually he came around. There was after all no better alternative.

It had taken almost a day to make the arrangements. Robert had had to call upon Freddie once more, this time to get permission for Bert to marry. They had to obtain an emergency marriage licence. They had to wait a long time in a long line at Manchester City Hall for the civil marriage ceremony to take place.

Afterwards they had a rather somber wedding dinner in a private room back at the hotel. The men were subdued and Sybil was almost dead on her feet.

"Remember" said Matthew "this will only work if we keep the story simple and don't try to embellish it. Sybil and Bert are young. They are in love. It is wartime. A baby will be born. An age old story. Wasn't the first time, won't be the last time. Don't answer any questions. Don't confide in anyone." He looked at Robert "Not your wife, not your mother, not your sister".

"Cora already knows most of it." Robert interrupted. "She read the two letters and she'll guess the rest. But she can keep a secret".

She certainly can thought Matthew, she hasn't told you about Mary. "Fine" he said "A wife can't testify against her husband anyway."

He looked at Sybil "Not your sisters, not your friends, and certainly not any of the servants. I will not tell my mother or Mary".

"Especially not the servants" agreed Bert. "They are the first ones interviewed by the police. The butler may not have done it but he knows who did it".

Now Bert stood up. "Matthew and I are catching the night train back to London. Our leaves are almost up and we have to get back to the Battalion".

They all stood up. "The groom cannot leave before the wedding night ..." Robert's voice trailed off as he realized what he had implied.

"In the circumstances that would prove quite awkward" smiled Bert. He extended his hand to Sybil who took it. "Mrs. Hastings, may I extend my best wishes for you and the child".

"Major Hastings, thank you for all that you have done" Sybil replied. "Do take care" and she moved closer and kissed him on the cheek.

Robert watched them and thought he must do whatever he can to see that his son-in-law and future son-in-law survive this war.


	12. To every man upon this earth

Chapter 12: To every man upon this earth

The Somme

August 4, 1916

Five weeks of hell, pure unremitting hell. The cream of the volunteers who had streamed to the colours two years ago had been thrown away along a five mile front for a gain of only one thousand yards. The 25th Battalion of the Manchester Regiment had been decimated four times over. Another week on the Somme and the Old Shysters would cease to exist as a fighting unit. And then blessed respite. The sector for it was responsible went quiet. The battle raged on to the right and to the left but nothing of note happened in Sector 7-G.

Matthew was glad of the pause, for he knew that was all it was, for he was finding the madness of the battle contagious. He wondered if the Crawleys of Yorkshire had acquired some Viking blood in the past for he could feel the cold fury of the berserker rising in him when he went on the nighttime trench raids which proceeded attacks. He was finding it very difficult to resist the call of the Valkyries.

Mary's letters were really all that was keeping him grounded. She had taken to writing every day. Mostly short letters, notes of mundane matters that happened that day, what she was doing on the Estate, bits of gossip, his mother versus her grandmother, Edith's job with the Red Cross in London, interspersed with casual, no big deal, just curious queries about Sybil and how did she come to be married. Matthew smiled at the last. So Sybil had not cracked so far under what was undoubtedly the most intense of interrogations. He hoped that he would do as well when he went home on leave; he did not think he could hold out long if Mary racked him personally. And always closing with reiterations of her love.

Matthew could not reply to each letter. He did not have the time, nor indeed the stationery. He tried to write Mary at least once a week but lately he spent most of his spare time writing those letters that commanders dread having to write:

Dear _

It with the greatest regret that I must advise you that your son/husband/brother/father _ was killed/injured/missing in action this past _.

_ was an excellent soldier and well liked by his comrades and officers.

He died/was injured/went missing bravely during action against the enemy. He will be missed.

(In a letter with respect to the death of a soldier Matthew always tried to add

'I do not want to distress you with the exact details of his passing but I do want you to know that the nature of his final wounds were such that he would have died almost instantaneously and felt no pain.'

(even if he knew the soldier had died after suffering horribly for hours. He hoped his lie would help console the grieving family)

Please accept my deepest condolences for your loss.

Yours truly

Major M. Crawley

Company C, 25 th Battalion, Manchester Regiment

Whenever he could Matthew tried to embellish the letters with personal details about the casualties but he hardly knew some of the replacements before they were killed or wounded. But no matter the circumstances the casualty was always excellent, brave, missed. He sometimes wondered what lies would told about him.

"Sir, Colonel Colman would like to see you."

Matthew looked up at the orderly. "I will be right there". He put the last letter from Mary he had been rereading away and got up.

He found Bert was meeting with the Colonel as well.

" I have some good news for the two of you, bad for the battalion, but good for you" the Colonel smiled at them. "You have both been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. You are scheduled to start the staff course on September 5 and after that you will be reassigned to your new battalions. Congratulations" and he shook both their hands.

His orderly handed the Colonel the pips that combined with a major's crown designated a lieutenant colonel and the Colonel pinned them on their epaulettes.

"Captains Harper and Layton are being promoted to major and will be taking over your respective companies. Show them the ropes for a few days and then you can go on leave until you have to start your course. Now what's planned for tonight?".

Matthew pointed at the map on the Colonel's desk. "Things have been too quiet on our front. We are going to take a look at the Boil and see what's going on. Lance it if we have to" The Boil was a small hillock that centred the German line in front of them. The Germans had fortified the Boil and though low in height it dominated the ground before it.

"Consider this your last trench raid. The Army has other plans for you" and they were dismissed.

"Last raid eh" said Bert as they walked along the trench "Mind if I tag along with you?"

"OK, but you are signing on as crew, not as a passenger".

Later that night, after the moon had set they met at the jumping off point. The squad that was going on the raid was made up of volunteers drawn from the various squads of Company C; there had been so many soldiers who wanted to go on Matthew's last raid they had drawn lots for the privilege. Everyone wore the standard, non-regulation battle dress they has perfected for trench raiding: black watch cap and turtleneck, cut down uniform jacket, dulled leather and brass. They blackened their faces and hands with burnt cork. The officers, commissioned and non-commissioned, wore specially blackened insignia. They were all armed with side arms and a lethal variety of edged weapons. In the close combat that was trench raiding rifles were a hindrance. Matthew, as was his habit, carefully checked each man's gear, he left nothing to chance.

"OK, let's do it" he commanded and one by one they slipped over the parapet and started slithering towards the Boil.

They took the Boil rather easily, more easily than Matthew liked. There had been only two sentries, both quickly and silently dispatched. He had been expecting at least three machine gun crews. What was going on?

"Sir, Major Harper says to come look" one of the soldiers whispered to Matthew.

Matthew and Bert followed him back to the back side of the Boil, the side facing the German rear area. Major Harper pointed. In the pale starlight it looked to Matthew like there were several battalions getting into position for surprise assault. From the muffled sounds Matthew could hear there might even be more. An assault on his own Battalion. Probably timed for that darkest part of the day, just before dawn. Which was less than half an hour from now.

He turned to Bert. "Get back to Battalion and raise the alarm. Tell the Colonel I want an artillery barrage starting at this position and then walking back at least 800 yards. I'll delay them."

Bert looked at him. "Come back with us".

Matthew cut him off. "You know I can't. Get out of here, you're a married man with a child on the way".

Bert looked at him, nodded and they shook hands. He then turned and left.

Matthew turned to Major Harper "Get the machine guns and whatever other weapons you can find shifted over to this side. When they start to advance we'll open up on them and that might disrupt them long enough for Bert to roust those artillerymen out of bed."

Five minutes later Harper was back. "Everything is in place but there's not that much ammunition for the machine guns. We only have about six belts for each gun. There's a mortar with half a box of shells and the only rifles were the two the sentries had."

Matthew thought for a few moments. "OK this is what we do. Put your best men on the weapons and send the rest back to our lines. Make sure no one fires until my whistle. And fire for effect, don't waste any ammunition. As the weapons run out of ammo the men running them should head back to our lines as well." Harper started to protest. "Make it so" commanded Matthew and Harper left.

Matthew took up a position behind the middle machine gun crew. Major Harper crouched beside him. The Germans were starting to move out. They were relaxed in their movements, no need to tense up yet, the British did not know they were coming. It would be a total surprise.

Matthew watched, waited, waited and finally blew his whistle. His men opened up on the Germans. Surprise! It was like hitting a hornets' nest with a stick. There was utter confusion and the advance ground to halt especially as they could not figure from where they were being attacked. But the Germans were well disciplined soldiers and they soon focused on the Boil and started advancing towards it.

For ten minutes the battle raged on, the Germans being repulsed but then C Company's guns started to grow silent. Matthew could feel the cold battle lust rising in him. He wanted to stand on the parapet, wave a sword over his head and yell defiance at the enemy. Suddenly he spun around and fell to the ground. He tried to stand up and his left leg buckled. He touched it with his left hand and it felt wet but he could not feel anything. He drug himself to the middle machine gun.

Harper yelled at him that they were feeding the last belt of ammo into the last machine gun still operating. Matthew tapped the gunner on the shoulder, told him to head back and took over. Harper went to take over from the loader but Matthew stopped him. "Make sure that belt is laid out nice and straight and then you and anyone else left get out of here. Stay low because the artillery is bound to open any time now." The first shell bursting to their left put emphasis on his point. Bert had got through.

Harper pleaded "Come back with us sir" he looked at Matthew's leg. "We can carry you".

"That's a good way to get us all killed. I'll just run this belt off and then I'll find a hole to hide in" Matthew promised but they both knew it was a lie. The Valkyries were riding.

Harper put his hand out "It's been a pleasure to serve with you sir."

Matthew shook it "Thanks, now get the hell of here" and he turned back to the machine gun. Harper and the last of the men left.

The Germans were not letting the shelling stop them, they kept coming at him. He fire short bursts at them but it was not enough to discourage them. They were starting to flank him. Finally he ran out of ammunition. This is it he thought. I am sorry Mother. And Mary. Oh Mary I am so sorry. I love you.

He drew his revolver and stood up as best he could.

He looked at the Germans advancing. He could see a soldier kneeling and aiming his rifle at him. He could heard the scream of a falling shell. He raised his revolv_.


	13. Think only this of me

Chapter 13: Think only this of me

Downton

August 5, 1916

Mary awoke suddenly. The nightmare had been so vivid. She was in a terrible thunderstorm. Lighting flashing about her and thunder crashing all around. She was standing on the bank of a river, the water was rapidly rising. Matthew was being swept away, she ran towards him but he kept receding. In desperation she threw herself down on the riverbank and reached her hand out towards him. She couldn't quite reach him. Then she had him. She pulled. He was so heavy, but she had him. The river was pulling him away. No she would not let him go...

She got up and looked out the window. There is was a faint line of light on the eastern horizon. She shivered. She might as well stay up. She had a lot to do today.

August 15, 1916

Mary and Sybil were having tea in the drawing room at Crawley House. Mary was playing an one sided game of twenty questions. What's Sybil's husband's birthday? His middle name? The colour of his eyes? His favourite food? Sybil ignored her. She was lost in a reverie, thinking of the child growing in her, a girl she was sure. Funny how her memory of Tom was fading while her memory of Bert's proposal persisted. She smiled to herself at Mary's persistent questioning. All of the others had given up although every once in awhile her grandmother would demand to see this new husband of hers. But Mary wanted the whole story. Well she would have to get it out of Matthew if she could. In the meantime all she was going to get from Sybil was: Young, Love, War, Baby, Old Story.

The door bell rang. There being no servants in the house Mary went to answer it.

"A telegram for Mrs. Crawley" said the telegraph agent said in a small voice.

Mary and Sybil stared at him. Isobel was at the convalescent hospital. They both knew what it meant when the agent delivered a telegram himself instead of sending it with a boy. Half the village would have been watching him, trying to determine which house he was heading to.

Mary said "I'll take it, thank you."

Mary slumped in her chair clutching the telegram in her hands. Finally she could bear it no longer; she tore it open and quickly read it. She started to cry.

Sybil took the telegram from her and started to read it herself. Through her own tears she saw the words:

"Regret to advise you that Lt. Col. Matthew Crawley 403345403 is missing since ..."

Sybil comforted her sister "Mary it says missing, not killed, there is still hope. Come on we must get mother and then go tell Isobel".

August 16, 1916

Mary felt a compulsion to go through Matthew's things. She had to hold something of his. She climbed the narrow staircase to the attic where they had stowed Matthew's belongings. In the dim light she looked at the boxes and trunks. She wanted something that she could hold to her face and smell the essence of him. Most of the clothes she looked at had been laundered before they had been put away but then she found a bag containing old clothing to be mended or maybe given away. There was a white shirt of his with a button missing. She smelled it. She could smell his aftershave, his soap, his sweat. She decided to take it down with her, she would wear it tonight to bed.

And then she saw the artist's portfolio. She remembered his friend saying that he painted. She opened the portfolio. There were about two dozen sheets of paper rippled from the water colours. She started to go through them. They each had a date and his initials in the bottom right hand corner. The first was of a small church with two trees next to it. She smiled at the effort, his perspective was off a little and the colours were a little muddy but all in all an excellent start. The next picture was of the same church, but one of the tress looked as if it had been snapped in two and the windows appeared to appeared to be shattered. She looked at the date, a week after the first. The third picture showed the church with a hole in the roof, five days later. She frowned as she went through the sequence of pictures, the church being reduced to rubble, the very stones disappearing, until the last few pictures showed only a churned up field, with some sort of red flower appearing in the last picture. All in a space of less than four months. She shivered and put the pictures back in the portfolio. She sat for a long time in the attic before she finally went downstairs.

August 20, 1916

Mary was fading away. She ate only when someone made her. She slept only when someone made her.

She walked and she walked. She walked everywhere where they had walked She carried her briefcase and in it were all of his letters to her. She would stop at one of their spots and read one of his letters. Then she would walk on.

She refused all comfort. She spoke to no one. People in the village, on the estate, at the convalescent hospital respected her grief and gave her space.

It was generally thought that she would grow to accept that he was gone but she did not. She grew paler and thinner. Her eyes got blacker and blacker.

Her family, both upstairs and down, finally agreed, without ever directly discussing it, or taking any kind of vote, that it was time to take steps. But then they could not find her. Without raising a general alarum they spread out to canvas the village and the estate.

Carson thought he knew where to look. He went directly to the bench under the big tree. But she was not there. He sat on the bench. He had felt sure she would have been here. Where could you be child? And then he saw the foot peeking out from behind the tree. It was not moving. No! Child, no!

Carson looked behind the tree. Lady Mary was curled up at the base. She was clutching an old bedraggled letter in her hand. He bent down and touched her cheek. Cool but she still breathed. She opened her eyes and looked at him. She gave him a sad smile.

"We've come full circle haven't we Carson? Two years ago he left me and now he has left me again".

Carson bent down and, heedless of the state of his back, he picked Lady Mary up. She was practically weightless.

And you are leaving us too aren't you child Carson thought. Not if I can help it. He had learned very early in his career that in the face of absolute disaster the most important thing was to take charge and proceed even if later it proved to be in the wrong direction. What he was about to do might destroy his relationship with Lady Mary, the daughter he never had, but it might buy some time.

"Child he is coming back. He will be with you this Christmas". Please let her believe it he prayed. Let her hold onto the thought until we can pull her to safety.

She looked at him and gave him that same sad smile again. "Carson you are always right". She laid her head on his chest.

He looked up the path. Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Crawley were hurrying towards them. "Yes child I am".


	14. Lines that may fall under your eye

Chapter 14: Lines that may fall under your eye

September 1, 1916

Downton

Bert had been reluctant to come to Downton. He did not want to have to speak to the family about Matthew. And he was worried about what her family would ask about his marriage to Sybil. Questions to which the only answer was that it seemed like the thing to do at the time. Bert was to start the staff course on Monday but Robert had convinced him to make a flying trip to Downton before hand.

Sybil had been coming down the stairs when he and Robert had arrived at the Dower House. Robert had greeted her and then gone on into the dining room leaving the two of them alone. Greeting her was awkward. She was huge with child and she was, even in the context in which they were meeting, radiant. She reminded him of the Madonna Matthew had shown him at the Louvre.

"How do you do Mrs. Hastings?" he said "Are you and the child well?"

"Very fine thank you and how are you Lt. Col. Hastings?" Sybil replied with a smile.

"I am well thank you." he paused and looked at her. "You know I do not know what to say. It was not meant that I should ever see you again".

"Well, you have and you shall again as well. Before we go in I would like to thank you for diverting your pay to me but I don't really need it. Father has treated me most generously when he could have ..." her voice trailed off. They both knew she could have been cast out.

"I do not need it in France, if you don't need it now, save it for a rainy day." he replied.

She took his arm and lead him into the dining room "Come, I must introduce my husband to my family."

The introductions were not as bad as he thought they would be. It was like he was a different Bert Hastings, the one who was Matthew's friend, and not at all the Bert Hastings who had married Sybil.

Robert sat at one end of the dining room table and Violet at the other end. Bert and Sybil sat on one side of the table. Cora and Isobel sat on the other side with Mary between them. They were sitting so close to Mary that he thought they were either holding her up or keeping her from bolting.

Isobel appeared to be stoically holding up but Mary appeared to be fading away. She looked thinner and wearier than when he had seen her at Easter. She did not have the same sparkle to her eyes.

"I've asked Bert to come to Downton to tell you himself what he knows about Matthew's" Robert paused searching for the right word "situation".

Bert went through the story, carefully censoring the more distressing details. The promotion. The last trench raid. He did not dwell on the bitterness of the word last. Discovery of the German attack. Matthew calling for a artillery barrage on his own position. Matthew sending his men back. His leg wound. His manning the last machine gun. How after the battle had ended and they had captured the German lines Bert and the men from Matthew's Company C had scoured the area and found no trace of Matthew, not a shoe, not even a button. Unsaid by Bert, but understood by Robert and him and perhaps Sybil, who had been a nurse at the front, was that a direct hit by an artillery shell could have totally vapourized Matthew or buried him so deep no trace of him would remain on the surface. Bert choose to end on an optimistic note. "There is a good chance the Germans captured Matthew and he is sitting in a prisoner of war camp right now. If that is the case the Red Cross will let you know".

"I have brought Matthew's things back with me, I have asked Molesley to take them to the other house, so you can look through them when you able" said Bert. Isobel and Mary both nodded their consent. It would be too much to go through them now.

Bert continued "Among his things Matthew left this." and he showed them a large manila envelope. On the outside Matthew had written a note to Bert asking him to distribute the contents in the event of his death. Bert shook a number of letters out of the envelope and distributed them, there was a letter for each of them. There was even one for Edith and Bert asked Cora if she would give it to her.

Each of them looked at the letter in front of them. Finally after a long pause Violet picked up her letter and started to open it.

"He is not dead!"

They all looked at Mary. Violet put her letter down.

"If he were dead I would know it! He is not dead!"

Isobel put her arm around Mary who had started to sob. The others all looked down, not wanting to intrude upon Mary's grief.

"Excuse me". They all looked at Molesley. "Lady Edith is on the telephone for Lady Mary".

"I will take it" said Cora standing up.

"With respect Ma'am Lady Edith insists that it must be Lady Mary. She says it is very important."

"Very well I will take it" said Mary in a dull voice. As she got up she dried her eyes. She then followed Molesley to the butler's pantry where her grandmother had banished the telephone.

"Yes Edith, what is it" Mary snapped "This is not a good time".

"Mary, please listen to me. I know that we do not get along but this is too important for that. Part of my job here at the Red Cross is to sort through post cards and letters that the Red Cross collects from German prisoner of war camps and forwards to us in London."

"Yes" said Mary hopefully. Please oh please she thought.

"A postcard came in today addressed to you and Isobel from Matthew and we will be mailing it to you. I just had to call and tell you!".

A flood of relief washed over Mary. She luxuriated in the sensation.

"What does it say? Oh Edith, please read it to me" Mary pleaded.

"Now I don't think Matthew actually wrote it" warned Edith. "It looks like German printing to me. It is addressed to Isobel and Mary Crawley, Downton, Yorkshire, England and it is dated August 8, 1916, Bapaume, France. This is what it says:

Dear Mother and Mary:

I am in a German military hospital. They are treating me well. I look forward to seeing you again. Please write to me c/o of the Red Cross.

Love Matthew."

Mary could not speak. She was crying again, happy tears this time.

"Hello, hello? Mary are you still there?" asked Edith.

"Yes, yes I am here. Oh thank you Edith for calling. It means so much to me, to us" Mary said. There was paper and a pencil beside the telephone. "Could you read it again so that I can write it down for the others."

After they had finished their conversation Mary vowed to herself she would do whatever she could to reunite Edith with Sir Anthony if she still wanted him. All was forgiven.

Mary floated into the dining room, smiling through her tears. They looked at her. She waved the paper at them.

"He lives".


	15. As his who kept the bridge so well

Chapter 15: As his who kept the bridge so well

Bapaume, France

August 8, 1916

Matthew was in the great hall at Downton Abbey. It was bitterly cold. Mary/Britannica was charging at him, brandishing her trident. She was screaming "No". She was right up on him. She was thrusting the trident at his head. He could not move out of the way. No, she thrust it past the left side of his head. He heard a mighty scream. He turned his head. Behind him was a hideous sea monster clutching at the trident buried in its throat. He turned back to Mary. She smiled at him and _.

He opened his right eye. He could not open his left eye. From what he could see it looked like a hospital. He could hear voices. German voices. He was in a German hospital.

A nurse bent over him. A pretty blond nurse. She smiled at him and disappeared. A few minutes later a doctor appeared.

"Good morning. I am Doctor Julius Marx, no relation." the doctor smiled at him. "I am glad to see you are finally awake. I know you have many questions but please be patient while we run a few simple tests. What is your name?"

"Matthew Crawley". Matthew croaked out. His mouth was very dry. The pretty nurse leaned in and gave him a sip of water.

"What is your rank?"

"Lieutenant Colonel".

"What is your serial number?"

"403345403"

"What military secrets do you know?"

Matthew stared at him.

The doctor laughed. "It was worth a try".

He poked Matthew with something on the soles of both feet. Matthew could feel his reflex action but he didn't feel any pain. In fact he could hardly feel his body at all, he felt as if he were floating above the bed.

The doctor rang a small bell next to Matthew's right ear and he turned his head towards it, but when the doctor tried on the left side Matthew could not hear anything at all.

"You would no doubt like to know what is wrong with you. Well it looks like you sustained a gun shot wound which broke your left leg. Then a shell landed somewhere to your left and shredded your entire left side. I think we were able to save your left eye, we will know better when we take off the bandages in a few days. I suspect that the blast blew out your left ear drum and you are likely permanently deaf on that side. Your left arm suffered a compound fracture. Your already broken left leg suffered a second fracture. You have two broken ribs on your left side. You have numerous cuts and abrasions on that side. Pretty much everything on your left side got dinged. Luckily no major organs appeared to have been damaged."

"Everything?" croaked Matthew, he tried with his right eye brow to gesture downwards, he did not want to say what he wanted to ask in front of the nurse.

"Oh that" laughed the doctor "Maria tells me everything in that area appears to be in order".

The pretty nurse, whom must be Maria, blushed.

"But no pain" said Matthew.

"Your body is racked with pain. You can not feel it right now because we have masked it with a powerful opiate, diacetylmorphine."

Matthew shook his head.

The doctor continued "you may know of it under its trade name, Heroin".

Matthew shook his head no again.

"Anyway now that you are conscious we are going to have to wean you off of it. If you stay on it too long you will become addicted to it. You will have to be brave, your recovery will be very painful.

"Now I have a souvenir for you" and he handed Matthew the soldier's bible Mary had given him so long ago. There was a triangular piece of shrapnel embedded in the book, it had gone through the back cover and had almost gone all of the way through to the front. "You are lucky you are a Christian, all those pages in the New Testament slowed the shrapnel down enough so it didn't make it all the way through the bible into your chest. As it was the blow did break several of your ribs. Now look at the first intact page where it stopped."

Matthew squinted at the tiny print on the tissue thin paper with his right eye. The page started with Proverbs 31:12 'She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life'.

The doctor continued "When my mother felt that my father was not properly appreciating her efforts she would quote that whole proverb to him. But he would get her back. He would tell the story of how Adam was all alone in Eden. Cold, hungry, you know, so God decided Adam needed a helpmate. So God tells Adam that he will give Adam a helpmate who would do all his chores for him, cook for him, clothe him, take care of his every need and never ever complain. Adam thought that sounded pretty good but he was a careful man so he asked God how much this great helpmate would cost. And God said an arm and a leg. Adam thought a moment and then asked what he could get for a rib".

Matthew laughed until his own ribs hurt. The doctor smiled, patted him on the shoulder and said "It is good that you can laugh, I think you are on the way to recovery. Now Maria is going to try to get some nourishment to you".

After Maria had fed him and cleaned him up he had another visitor. Herr Lindt was from the Red Cross. He explained to Matthew how they would monitor his stay in the hospital and later the prisoner of war camp to which he would be transferred, as well as serve as a conduit for letters and parcels. He graciously wrote out a postcard home which Matthew dictated to him.

Matthew asked "How long will it take for the mail?"

Herr Lindt smiled at him sadly. "I am afraid the mail goes the long way around through Holland. It will probably be three weeks before your family gets this and another three weeks for a reply to get back to you. That is if you are still here. If you have been transferred to a prisoner of war it will have to follow you there".

As the days passed on Matthew got to know the doctor better. It turned out that he had done a surgery residency at St. Swithin's in London which is where he had perfected his English.

It was clear that there something between the doctor and the pretty nurse Maria. There was a fondness and familiarity in the way they interacted that went beyond any professional relationship. One day Maria said something to the doctor which sounded like it contained the word 'Mary', the doctor said something back to her and she giggled and them continued n her rounds.

"What did she say?" asked Matthew.

The doctor laughed. "You know women, they always like to know a little gossip. She wanted me to ask about this Mary you are always talking about."

"Always talking? When have I talked about Mary?" asked Matthew.

"You talk a lot in your sleep. Especially when you were on the heavy painkillers."

"What have I said?"

"Nothing totally coherent. You argue, you plead, you woo." The doctor smiled at him. "I cannot tell whether you have lost her or won her. Maria thinks the latter."

"Tell her that Mary is my fiancee but it was a long hard struggle to get her to that stage."

"Excellent, she loves a happy ending".

Ordinarily Matthew would have been reluctant to intrude upon the doctor's privacy but felt that if they were exchanging confidences that this was the time to ask "What about Maria and you?".

The doctor sighed. "I am very fond of her, but alas" he smiled wistfully. "she is a Catholic from Bavaria and I am a Jew from Berlin."

Matthew reached his right hand out and gripped the doctor's arm. "Ask her. After the war there are a lot of places you can go where they won't care."

Almost three weeks after Matthew had arrived at the hospital there was a great commotion in the ward. Doctor Marx came rushing up to his bed. "General von Falkenhayn is here! He is the head of the General Staff. He has been here awarding medals to wounded soldiers and he wants to see you!"

Almost immediately an entourage swept into the ward swirling around a tall Prussian general who stopped at the foot of Matthew's bed. Matthew saluted. The general spoke to the doctor.

"I will translate for the general. He says 'So this is the Englander that wrecked our surprise attack. As my friend von Moltke says "No plan survives contact with the enemy'. Some enemy. One man breaks up an attack. I tell my young officers to study the English, the most warlike race in the world."

Matthew said "Tell him that I had a squad with me, it was not just me".

The general waved the objection away. He touched the Iron Cross hanging at his neck and continued.

"He says you were the leader and the one who fought to the end. He suspects that you called for that artillery barrage on your own position. If he could he would give you one of these, the Iron Cross that is" The general asked the doctor something and the doctor replied.

"He asked what your prognosis is as a soldier. I told him that with your left leg you would be lucky to fight behind a desk".

The general said something to his aide who pulled out a notebook and made a note.

"He says about the only thing he can do for such a brave warrior is to send you home to be with your kinder. He has ordered that you be repatriated as soon as possible without the necessity of parole. He salutes you."

The general clicked his heels together and saluted Matthew. And then he was gone.

British Army Internment Camp Hospital

Groningen, Netherlands

October 6, 1916

Matthew had been in Holland for almost three weeks. The transfer from the German military hospital to the internment camp had been torture. It had started out well. Dr. Marx and Maria had seen him off. He had invited them to come visit him in Downton after the war. But then there was a rough ambulance ride over bad roads, manhandling by uncaring German orderlies, an interminable wait at the border while the papers for Matthew's transfer had been scrutinized and rescrutinized, three train transfers with all the attendant bumps and jars, almost a full day travelling with little water, no food and pain killers that had only lasted a half day. And somewhere along the way he had picked up an infection in his leg wound.

The Dutch doctors treating him had used maggots to fight the infection. The maggots had done their job well but even though it had been a painless process hidden from Matthew's view he thought it would induce nightmares longer than anything he had experienced in the trenches. The infection had delayed his trip to England and the next transport would not be for another two weeks.

The hospital staff had rigged up some weights and pulleys to allow Matthew to exercise his right arm and leg. Both Dr. Marx and the Dutch doctors had told Matthew that he would not be able to get up on crutches until the end of October at the earliest because of the severity of the injuries to his left side and that in the meantime he had better keep the muscles on his right side from atrophying. So he exercised. He wrote Mary and his mother although with any luck at all he would get home before the letters did.

Otherwise he was bored. He did not feel like reading, his left eye had been saved but it still bothered him. During the day he had to wear an eye patch. He did not feel like joining in any of the various card games going on in the wards. He felt as if the war was already over for him. He just wanted to go home, which he now knew to be Downton Abbey, and to be with his family; Mary, his mother and the rest of the Crawleys. He moped.

A few days later he had a most welcome visitor.

"Well, if it isn't the Honourable Evelyn Napier! How do you do" Matthew called out when he saw the nurse escorting Evelyn between the beds.

"Better than you it appears" smiled Evelyn as he shook Matthew's hand.

"And what brings you to my humble abode" Matthew waved his hand in the direction of the rest of the ward.

"One of my duties at the embassy is to arrange passage back home for repatriated soldiers and I am happy to say that includes you. In two weeks you will be on your way to London. After that" he shrugged "it is up to the Army".

"That is excellent news" said Matthew. "If you are able, is there any quick way you can let Mary know? If I write I'll be home before she gets my letter."

'I will see what I can do" promised Evelyn.

Evelyn stayed and chatted for another half hour, mostly about Downton and then he had to leave. He left Matthew elated.


	16. Dawn, hold not long the day from us

Chapter 16: Dawn, hold not long the day from us

Downton

October 14, 1916

"Mary, I have some excellent news for you. All of us really"

Robert smiled at his daughter. He had just arrived from the train station and he had immediately sought her out. She looked expectantly at him, hope rising in her.

"Freddie has sent me a letter telling me that Matthew is to be repatriated without necessity of parole!" He looked for a joyous response from her but all he got was puzzlement.

"Which is what exactly?"

"The Germans are letting him come home. The without parole bit means that he won't have to promise that he wouldn't fight them again".

Now he got the joyous hug he had expected in the first place. As he hugged her back he thought that the Germans are only doing this because they thought Matthew was hurt so bad he would never be able to fight them again. He did not tell Mary this.

Downton

October 22, 1916

After Freddie's news they heard nothing of Matthew until they received a telegram from one of Evelyn Napier's friend at the Foreign Office. Mary frowned at it.

"EN advises MC arrival London port 191020 MV Ryndam. Sorry for delay not EN's fault"

Sorry indeed. He has been back two days. Where was he now? How badly was he hurt? They had heard nothing about the extent of his injuries. Where was he now?

Mary practically ran all the way to the hospital to show Isobel the telegram.

"What should I do? Should I go to London to look for him? What should I do?" Mary said, her voice quick with desperation.

"Easy child" said Isobel. "Why don't you ask Edith to see what she can find out. She might be able to find out where he has been sent."

Mary had not thought of Edith. The wait until the evening when she could telephone Edith at their aunt's house seemed an eternity. Edith was most cooperative and told that she would call in sick tomorrow and go see what she could find out.

The next day Mary sat by the telephone the whole day. Edith did not call until 6:30 pm.

"It took most of the morning to find out that Matthew has been sent to a convalescent hospital in Cornwall. It is a converted country house like Downton Abbey. It is near a place called Portwenn. I could not find out how bad he is hurt. Then I spent the afternoon at Horse Guards waiting to see Daddy's friend Freddie. I've only just got back now"

"Why did you want to see him?" asked Mary.

"To get him to have Matthew transferred to Downton Abbey of course. He made no promises but he said he would see what he could do." answered Edith. "From the amount of braid on his uniform I think he can get done anything he wants done."

Mary thanked Edith profusely and they talked for a few more minuted before Edith rang off. She felt closer to her sister than she had in years.

Two more weeks past. Nothing from Matthew, nothing from Freddie.

Mary could take it no longer, if Matthew was not coming to her, she was going to him. She overrode Cora's, Violet's and Isobel's objections. She was going.

Sybil said she would go with her if it wasn't for the baby. Alberta Violet was almost a month old. Both Sybil and Mary had been concerned what would happen when she had been born but they need not of worried. The old elephants closed ranks around the new calf.

It took three very long days for Mary to get to Cornwall, the middle day being a layover at her aunt's house where she had a heart to heart talk with Edith. Notwithstanding all the dashing young officers in London Edith was still interested in Sir Antony. Mary promised to do what she could for her.

After a night in what would have been in better times a quaint and charming inn in Portwenn Mary walked up to the convalescent hospital. Where she found Matthew was gone.

"Gone!" said Mary dumbfounded.

"Yes your Ladyship" said the flustered matron. "He left three days ago. He is being transferred to another facility up north. In a place called Downton".

Mary thanked her, it was not her fault he had been moved, and headed back to the village. She has more than half way back before she realized she had not thought to ask how badly Matthew was injured.

Two days later, after having spent more than a full day trapped on a train because of a derailment up the line, Mary arrived back at her Aunt's house in London. She was tired and cranky. There was a telegram from Isobel waiting for her that cheered her up immensely.

"M here. Will be OK think Bates. Wants you"

What did 'think Bates' mean? Mary thought. He'll have a limp, use a cane. Oh Thank God, that is all! Mary caught the overnight train north.

Molesley met her at the train station. She told him to get her bag back to Crawley House, took the Rolls from him and sped off, leaving him standing in the middle of the road.

She braked to a halt in front of Downton Abbey spraying gravel everywhere. She ran up the steps and through the entrance hall to the admissions desk.

"Where is he?" she demanded. The flustered admissions clerk, once she realized whom Mary meant, stammered out a room number and Mary was off up the staircase before the clerk could finish telling her he was not there.

Mary charged into his room only to find him gone. She sat on the neatly made bed. She had been travelling almost a week to find him and at every turn she had been denied before her anticipation could climax. It was not fair. She sat on his bed. She could feel tears coming.

Isobel came into the room, sat down beside Mary and put her arm around her.

"Mary, before we go to Matthew, I want you to know what to expect. He was injured quite badly on his left side. He is deaf in his left ear. His left eye is quite weak, he can see out of it but he may require spectacles. He has to wear an eye patch in bright sunlight. It makes him look quite dashing. He cannot lift his left arm above his shoulder. His leg..."

"He needs a cane, like Bates" said Mary remembering the telegram.

"Well, in time, with a lot of work, much pain, and some luck, he may be as well off as Bates" cautioned Isobel.

"So he cannot walk yet? Where is he then?" asked Mary.

"No one has told him he cannot walk so he has taken it upon himself to go for a walk each day. You know the bench under the big tree?"

Mary nodded, our bench she thought.

"The first day it took him five hours on crutches to get there. An hour and a half just to get down the staircase. With his weak left side he is finding it hard to make the crutches work. But you know how stubborn he is. He refused all help. He would fall down, rest for awhile, then drag himself up, go a few steps on the crutches, fall down again and repeat. Carson gathered up some of the old carriage rugs and has left them there on the bench under a waterproof tarpaulin for him to use. Matthew finally agreed that after he got to the bench and had a chance to cool down he would accept a ride back in a wheelchair." Isobel looked at the nurse's watch hanging on a ribbon on her dress. "He is about due to come back in, would you like to take him the chair?"

Mary jumped up.

Edith stood up beside her. "Easy, he isn't going anywhere. Oh, and don't accuse him of not writing. In the past three days we have received more than a dozen letters from him, it's like the Post Office was saving them up."

Matthew sat staring aimlessly into the distance. The sweat on him had dried and he was starting to get cold. The orderly should be coming soon with the hated wheelchair. He was getting better with the crutches, next week he would start walking back on his own.

He heard the wheels of the wheelchair on the gravel path and then there was the sound of running feet. Surprised he turned around. Mary! She was running full tilt towards him. He struggled to his feet.

He was taking a tentative step towards her when suddenly she tripped and sprawled before him. He heard her say something most unladylike. Carefully balancing on his right foot he reached down with his right hand and helped her up.

"You know Mary, when most young ladies met their fiance after a long absence they do so with a handshake or perhaps even an chaste embrace; they do not prostate themselves on the ground". He smiled at her. "Although I am immensely flattered."

"Oh shut up" said Mary as she slipped into his arms and sealed his lips with hers.

After a few minutes she started poking him in the chest saying "Don't ever leave me again" over and over again.

"Easy, didn't Mother tell you I had a couple of broken ribs as well? Come let's sit down before my right leg gives out."

They sat on the bench, Mary nestled under his right arm.

He kissed the top of her head. "This soldier is home for good. I am all yours".


	17. Comfort and joy

Chapter 17: Comfort and joy

Downton

December 3, 1916

They had taken to meeting at their bench under their big tree almost every afternoon. Only when it was so wet or cold that his mother or Carson admonished them at every turn that 'they would catch ...' did they meet in the library of the Great House. But that meant they were under the gaze of a hundred different chaperones and they had to be quite circumspect. She could hold the pose of an elegant young lady all day if need be but he got bored easily. If he thought no one was observing, and she thought he was often wrong in so thinking, he would make faces at her and whisper the most outrageous things to her, all in an effort to disturb her poise. He would cover his legs with a throw, the very picture of an invalid, then sidle close to her and try to tickle her, all the time maintaining a slightly askew angelic look. No it was better outside. Unless she could convince Carson to lend her a key to one of the attic storage rooms. But then he would have to negotiate all those stairs...

No, outside was best. Away from the maddening crowd they could snuggle under Carson's carriage rugs and talk or just bask in their collective warmth. She learned very quickly to sit on his right side. He was deaf on his left side although not totally so, she had discovered this once when thinking he was just humouring her as she prattled on she had made a most improper suggestion and he had suddenly turned to her and said with a smile that he would rather like to try that. No it was safer to sit on his right side.

This day she wanted to discuss the arrangements. He was being obtuse. He did not seem to appreciate the complexities of arranging a wedding under conditions of wartime austerity. And then he made a mistake.

"Bert and Sybil's wedding wasn't that complex" he said.

She pounced. "Oh, do tell me about their wedding".

He started the familiar litany of 'they were young, in love, it was war ...' but she interrupted him "I do not want to hear the words 'young, love, war, baby' in the same sentence from you again unless you are telling someone about how proud you are of the birth of your first child. Now should we be start again?"

"Ah, you know I cannot ..." he said haltingly. She had slipped her hand inside his greatcoat and his shire and was lazily circling her forefinger on his chest. He was starting to sweat again.

"Are you sure?" Her voice was low and husky.

Desperate now for that finger to stop, or to never stop, he offered her a deal. "After we are married, if Sybil, Bert and your father release me from my oath I will tell you the whole story".

To forestall her next move he played his trump. "I received a letter today".

"Oh? From an old flame who wants you back? I thought there were no returns on damaged goods?"

"You might think that but apparently the Army wants me back."

"What? You are in no shape to .." she protested.

"Apparently the Army thinks I have convalesced enough to fight the war behind a desk. I am to report to Army HQ on January 8 to be fitted for my red tabs."

"Red tabs?"

"I am to be a General Staff wallah stationed in London. Your father says we can stay in Grantham House".

"Father knows about this?"

"I think he set it up with his friend Freddie. And I don't think it is a coincidence that Bert was transferred to the Training Depot on Salisbury Plain. Your father must have quite the dossier on Freddie" he hugged her to him. "You know there was a time when I would have resented his interference but not now. Now about that first child of mine" and he put his hand on her hip.

She took his hand off and said "About the arrangements ..."

"It's all under control"

"What do you mean?"

"Our respective mothers are coordinating things. The church is booked for December 23 at 11:00 a.m.. The rehearsal is the night before. Incidentally Alberta Violet will be christened then. We are both godparents. Your grandmother is in charge of the flowers. The patients' mess is putting on the wedding luncheon, under the supervision of Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Bird of course..."

"Wait a minute, don't I have any say in this?"

He looked at her "We, and I speak for the whole family, have found through long and bitter experience, that when it comes to making the real major decisions, and I mean major, not decisions about running the estate, but decisions about your life, that you have a tendency to dither"

"Dither! When I have I ever dithered? Oh..."

"Exactly, besides you picked out your wedding dress."

"When?"

"Didn't you and Sybil go through a book of patterns and you picked one you liked?"

"Yes, but I didn't decide ..."

"Well I hope you do like it because you are driving us to Ripon tomorrow to get the marriage licence, pick up the rings, and then you are going to a fitting at your dressmakers. And I have the honeymoon under control"

"Oh? And what exactly do you have planned?" As soon as she saw his broad grin she hurriedly said "Let me rephrase that, what is the itinerary? And keep your mind out of the gutter!" she added sharply.

"You know Sandy?" Sandy Christie was the lieutenant colonel in the other bed in Matthew's hospital room, blind and horribly disfigured. "Well he has agreed to kip down in the library so we can push the beds together..."

She whirled on him and was just about to tell him in no uncertain terms that ... when she saw the glee on his face. She went to poke him in the chest but he caught her hand.

"Actually you know that tiny cottage near the river? The one the Archibalds lived in until he was killed at the Somme and she went to live with her sister in York?"

She nodded. It was probably the most isolated cottage on the estate, there was no one closer than half a mile. He started kissing her hand.

"Well Carson and Mrs. Hughes are having it cleaned up for us and we have it to ourselves, no servants, just us, until we have to head to London. Each day Molesley will drop off a hamper for us and the papers if you feel the need."

"So at this place by the river you want me to feed you tea and sandwiches.."

"While I touch your perfect body, if you don't mind".

He kissed her and put his hand around her hip towards the small of her back. She thought if we don't get married soon we are going to start going at it right here on the bench. She pulled his hand out.

"So there is nothing for me to do".

"Well, there is one small thing. Bert is going to stand up with me. You have to decide who is going to stand up with you. Sybil is prepared to pass if you want to choose..."

"Edith?".

Two days later they were able to rendezvous on their bench again. The trip to Ripon had been a great success. Mary was pleased with the ivory white wedding dress, it set off her thin figure to great advantage.

She wanted to discuss what to pack for the honeymoon. He did not see the point. After all they were not actually going anywhere.

"Look we're in the cottage for a fortnight. All you need is a good outfit to wear when we leave, one or two outfits for if we go for a walk by the river, a few changes of smalls and your most provocative nightgown" he leered at her. "Remember that the only maid you will have is me".

She did not know if she could survive two weeks alone with this madman.

"What are we going to do to amuse ourselves?"

He grinned at her again. She frowned at him. "If you smile like that one more time you will be amusing yourself by going on long walks each day, by the river, by yourself. Govern yourself accordingly".

He bowed his head in an insincere show of contrition. He knew that if he looked at her eyes he would lose it. "Read books, write letters, write thank you notes, play cards, play board games, do jigsaw puzzles, do crossword puzzles, go for walks, paint, draw, read poetry, write poetry, cook, eat, clean up, nap, take baths, sing, study the Bible ..."

She put her forefinger on his lips. "Enough." She paused and looked at him. "I know I shouldn't ask but exactly what part of the Bible would you study?".

"I am partial to the Song of Solomon".

"You are incorrigible"

"How about we each bring one box with things to do"

"Agreed"

December 15, 1916

Matthew was waiting for Mary in the library. A cold rain was falling and it looked to be turning to sleet. They were stuck inside. He saw Mary coming with Sybil. Mary was scowling. Alarms started going off in his mind. He stood and waited for them.

"Mary! How are..."

"Have you spoken to father yet?" she half whispered, half hissed at him.

He looked at her with surprise. "He gave me permission last Easter ..."

"Not that! About the settlement!"

Behind her Sybil was making warning signs with her hands and seemed to be mouthing the words 'just play along'.

"No, I didn't see any rush ..." Sybil rolled her eyes at this so Matthew hurriedly added "But I will see him this afternoon"

"Good, that is my money and I don't want anything to go wrong. Now I have to find your mother and get some forms signed. I will be back to see you this evening" and she strode off.

Matthew looked at Sybil "What was that all about?"

"You may have noticed that Mary gets a little intense shall we say on a monthly basis?"

Matthew shook his head no.

"Well sit down, now that you are to become a married man there are certain things about women you should know." And Sybil proceeded to explain to Matthew in some clinical detail what Mary went through each month.

Twenty minutes later she finished. Everyone in the library had stopped doing what they were doing to listen to Sybil's lecture. The married men were nodding and the single men were sitting with their mouths open. Matthew was mortified. He was thankful there hadn't been a chalkboard handy, if there had been one he was sure Sybil would have been happy to draw diagrams.

"Any questions?" Sybil looked at him brightly. One young lieutenant put his hand up but a captain beside him hurriedly pulled it down.

"So for three or four days each month I am going to have to treat her like a grenade with the pin pulled?".

"Exactly. Good luck" and she was gone.

Matthew watched her leave. He could understand now why gentlemens' clubs had been established.

December 23, 1916

Matthew and Bert, resplendent in their scarlet tunics, stood at the front of the church awaiting the bride. Who was late.

"You look a little tired" Matthew said to his friend. "Up all night?"

"Almost." replied Bert. "Not what you think" when Matthew started to grin at him. "We stayed up most of the night talking, then I finished it off sleeping on the floor".

"The floor?"

"Yes. It didn't seem right to sleep in the bed. I don't feel like we are really married. I know that after the war we'll divorce and I'll leave for Canada so I'd feel like a cad if I took advantage of her now. It's funny, on the other hand, if I look at a pretty girl I feel guilty, like I'm committing adultery in my heart...".

Just then the incidental music the pianist had been playing changed to the wedding march. They both turned and looked down the aisle. She was coming on her father's arm, Edith behind.

She was beautiful. He held his breath as she came towards him. She smiled at him and he lost himself in her radiance. For a moment her father disappeared and her bouquet changed into a trident and shield and Britannia was striding towards him with a fierce smile on her face. And then he blinked and she was coming towards him on her father's arm.

He was in a trance; dazed, under a spell. When he came time for him to say his vows he just stood there stunned while the vicar looked encouragingly at him until she nudged him and he could say them. Then his wedding ring would not go over his second knuckle as the vicar had warned him might happen. And then they were walking down the aisle man and wife. Walking between the walls of happy smiles and tears. Him leaning on her as he walked for the first time in a long time without crutches or a cane.

The wedding lunch rapidly turned into a rout. In hindsight it may have been a mistake to leave it in the charge of the patient's mess. The estate had provided a fatted calf and Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Bird, with their army of military cooks in support, had produced an excellent meal.

There was a continual clinking of glasses so Matthew, after kissing his bride several times, to uproarious approval, had started to work his way down the line of female relatives. From his mother and mother in law he received motherly kisses. As he kissed Edith he saw Sir Anthony and winked at him. As he embraced Sybil she thanked him for everything he had done for her. And when he reached the Dowagr Countess he bent to give her a chaste peck on the cheek she turned her head and kissed. him full on the lips.

She looked at him "You know I read that last letter of yours to me. You can be pretty brave writing to someone when you think you'll be dead when they read it. Yes, I can be irascible at times but I love you too. And I love her. Be good to each other. Now take your kisses back to her where they belong" and she kissed him again.

As he walked back to Mary he thought Violet must have really been something in her prime.

Things started to get out of hand with the toasts. That Bradley's Brewery had donated three kegs of its best and the Earl had contributed several cases of wine from his cellar and some of the patients and staff had started imbibing before even the bridal party had arrived back from the church may have had something to do with it. The loyal toast went well. Then the Earl welcomed Matthew to the family, although he was already a member of the family, which had to be explained in case it appear incestuous, and so now he had a son, and he got quite maudlin and Cora had to tug on his tunic so he would sit down. And then Bert gave the toast to the bride and he went on how this lady had taken the fiercest warrior he had ever known, Hear! Hear!, and turned him to mush, No! No!, but she was the most beautiful, most intelligent woman in all of Britain, nay the world, so it was OK, Hear!, Hear!, and finally Sybil stood up beside him raised her glass and called out "The Bride" and the crowd joined in.

Then Sandy, as the highest ranking patient, in his capacity as chairman of the mess, presented a silver tray to the newlyweds, and in his remarks managed to recite most of the immortal Robbie Burns' poem 'A Red Red Rose" twice before Matthew could interrupt him long enough to thank them all.

Although he had hardly anything to drink himself Matthew found himself choking up at the end of his speech. "and let me say in closing that she found me broken and she has made me whole. I love her so." and he kissed her again.

They were sitting holding hands amidst the general hubbub when they heard dance music. Some of the patients had formed a dance band for the occasion.

"I don't recall a dance in your plans" she said with a smile.

"I lost control of this thing a long time ago."

Amid general calls for the bride and groom to have the first dance they got up and waltzed in place, her head on his shoulder and they stayed like that even after the music ended.

Some time later, after she had changed to her travelling outfit, they made their goodbyes.

As they were passing Carson, who was attending to the entrance door, she stopped.

"Thank you Carson, you were right, he is with me this Christmas" and she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Child, he is here because your love brought him here".

And they left.


	18. Which still presents that mystery's coun

A/N: the penultimate chapter

Chapter 18: Which still presents that mystery's counterpart

December 23, 1916

It was after eight when Molesley dropped them at the river cottage and left.

They went in and looked around. It did not take a lot of time. There was only the one room. At one end a double bed, at the other end a small table with two chairs. In the middle was a small settee facing a small fireplace. A small two burner stove shared the fireplace's chimney. There was a commode chair in one corner and an old galvanized bath tub in the opposite corner. There was a small outhouse out back..

There was a fire in the fireplace. The table was set for two. On it were flowers and candles. A bottle of champagne was cooling in a bucket. The room smelled of potpourri.

Their bags and their two activity boxes had already been delivered.

They stood looking at each other. Neither knew what to say, what to do, where to start.

There was no place to go to change. There goes the dramatic entrance in her new negligee she thought.

Finally she said "You stand in that corner, looking the other way and change and I will do the same in this corner."

He said nothing, he just nodded.

She got her things and went to her corner and started undressing. She was just about to pull the nightgown down over her head when she realized she could hear nothing behind her. She turned around and saw him standing there, his tunic and shirt off, pants still on, staring at her. Those blue eyes bathed her in their glow. She could have covered herself with her nightgown but she dropped it. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Forever"

-0-

The next morning she woke up, stretched and reached out for him. And he was not there. She sat up in bed and looked all around the cottage. He had left her! She felt like screaming and then he came in from outside wearing only his greatcoat.

"Where have you been?" she scolded.

"Just to the jakes" and he dropped the coat and climbed under the covers.

"Your feet are freezing. Don't do that again without warning me first!"

"Which? The feet or the going?"

"Both"

-0-

Christmas morning they found a small decorated Christmas tree in a clay pot along side the hamper Molesley had left.

They exchanged gifts.

She gave him gold cufflinks and a tie tack engraved with a cypher she had designed for them. Two overlapping capital Ms interlocked with a capital C.

He have her an antique cameo of Britannia sitting with her shield and trident. And he told her the story of how she, as Britannia, had saved him. And the telling of the story dissolved the facade of his calmness, brought brought back memories of terror in the trenches, the madness of artillery barrages and he broke down.

They lay on the bed, he in her arms, she stroking his head, until they slept.

-0-

He looked in her activity box and found a small cloth bag full of pennies.

"What are you going to do with these?" he asked her.

"I thought I would figure out how that trick you showed me worked."

She took two pennies out of the bag and put one in front of him and one in front of him. She smiled at him, closed her eyes and started to count "one ...two..."

Sometime later she said "If you are going to kiss me there you had better bet way more than a penny, I'm thinking a pound." She closed her eyes and started to count "one ...two..."

-0-

They were cuddling on the settee watching the fire and she asked "Why Canada?". She could feel him tense and so she reached up and started massaging his ear. He loved that and she knew if she could reach his ears she could survive any argument with him. He relaxed.

"It is a big beautiful country where they don't care who your father was or how much money you have and you can start with nothing and make something of yourself."

"But you don't have nothing here."

He turned his head so her hand left his ear. "Without you there is nothing for me here. If you had refused me at Easter I would have never come back here". He gave a look that chilled her "And if you ever leave me, or betray me, I am gone." He took his arm from her shoulders and leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs.

She had to beat down old Mary. Old Mary would have got her back up and it would have been colder inside the cottage than out for the rest of their stay. Instead she reached up and started to massage his shoulders,then his neck and then she had an ear of his in each hand. "You have me now and forever." He leaned back and looked at her. She continued "If you ever want to go to Canada I'm coming with you whether you want me to or not. I will never leave you. If you want to live in a cabin in the north woods of Saskatchewan and trap moose and beavers I will come with you".

"And leave Downton Abbey?" he asked.

"Without you there is nothing for me here." She kissed him and he kissed her back.

-0-

"Leftovers?"

"You have never had leftovers?"

"Well not deliberately."

:Try this" and he gave her the sandwich he had just made, white turkey meat with a little salt on buttered white bread.

It was very good.

He smiled at her. "Welcome to the middle class. Leftovers define the middle class. The poor don't have enough to eat for leftovers and the upper class let their servants eat their leftovers."

-0-

She sat at one end of the settee reading with her feet on his lap. He was massaging them. Funny, in all her erotic imaginings she had never thought about how sensuous it was to have your feet rubbed. And your back scratched.

"I hope our children don't inherit your feet".

"What's wrong with my feet?" She tried to lift her feet up but he keep them in his lap.

"You have six toes on each foot" and he counted as he touched each toe "one, two, three; four, five, six."

"Let me see" but he kept her feet down "Count again slowly".

He did and she caught on. "You're counting the middle toe twice!" She tried to kick him but he wouldn't let her. Finally she got her feet free, stood up, pulled her nightgown up to her waist and sat down beside him. "Scratch my back" she commanded.

-0-

They were on the settee again watching the fire. He was stroking her hair. "Do you still want to hear the story of the two star crossed lovers Bert and Sybil?" he asked.

"Do tell".

"The others have agreed that once we were married I could tell you" and he proceeded to tell the whole story from the coincidental arrival of the two letters to the sober and somber wedding dinner. And he also told her about Bert sleeping on the floor of Sybil's bedroom.

"You're missing the point of that" she said "It's not the sleeping on the floor, it's that they talked all night. She was interviewing him for the position of husband and father and lover. I bet you he has not been sleeping on the floor these past few nights" she smiled at him wickedly. "I bet you a pound".

-0-

He was rooting through the hamper Molesley had left on the front step. "Excellent! Mrs. Patmore remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"The ingredients for a proper fryup, You are going to love this".

She watched as he fried bacon, sausages, potatoes, eggs, baked beans, tomatoes and mushrooms. He apportioned it equally between two plates and then put one plate in front of her. She had never seen so much grease on a plate in her whole life. She watched him put a copious amount of sale and pepper on his before he even tasted it.

He looked at her. "What's a matter? Oh, I forgot the fried bread. Just a minute" and he got up from the table and started frying two slices of bread.

She picked up her fork and stabbed one of the mushrooms. The things I do for love she thought.

-0-

She watched him sleep.

He could fall asleep in an instance. She wanted to talk and he was snoring. He was a side sleeper, favouring his right side over his scarred left side, so she had insisted that he always sleep on the right side of the bed.

Beforehand she had been worried that the spectre of Pamuk would haunt their honeymoon but this was the first time she had even thought of him. And the last. Good riddance.

He watched her sleep.

Two years in the trenches of standing to before dawn had made him an early riser.

She slept like a discuss thrower. She turned around and around and around and then threw her arm out. She had bopped him in the nose once. She took up ninety per cent of the bed. She snored, a soft little kitten snore, but a snore still the same.

So far she had not called out that Turk's name or made any overt comparisons. He looked at her. Please don't ever.

-0-

"Do you think we invented that?"

"No, but we may have perfected it. It would be an interesting exercise trying to patent it. Have to build a working model you know."

-0-

'Mother, in the next hamper could you please discretely send another jar of that salve you gave me. A bigger jar if available.'

-0-

He lay on his right side trying to read volume 1 of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire which Bert and Sybil had sent in a hamper with a note saying to let them know if he needed volume 2. It was hard to concentrate. Mary was tracing the length of each of his scars on his left side with a very light, maddening touch.

"Move your leg as far forward as you can" she commanded. "Now back... Now up... Lift it up and turn your foot... Now turn your foot the other way... Bend your knee ... Lift your knee up..."

"How about I just tell you where the treasure is buried and you call off the torture?"

"Hush, I have to know. Anyway I think I know where the treasure is"

"Yes, that would be about right".

-0-

She was brushing her hair.

"Let me try that" he said.

She gave him the brush and he started brushing her hair. Twenty five strokes and he'll be bored she bet herself.

After only a dozen strokes he put the brush down and started braiding her hair.

"Be careful. Don't knot my hair" she warned him.

It was very pleasant having her hair played with and she must have dozed off. She woke with a start and he was in front of her grinning at her. He handed her the small mirror from his shaving kit, the only mirror in the cottage. She looked at it. She had at least six small pigtails. That she could see.

"Lady Medusa Crawley" he laughed.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

-0-

They were on the settee.

"You know the Brown farm, just north of here?" He shook his head no. "It is on the market, Mrs. Brown cannot keep it going now that her husband has died. Antony and I and Edith" she hurriedly added "took a look at it and it has a lot of potential. I want to use part of my settlement to buy it." she looked at him.

He looked at her "And?".

"Do you approve?"

He took her face in his hands. "Mary, I absolutely trust your judgement, at least now that you finally picked me" he smiled at her..

-0-

"A flush is five cards of the same suit. It is higher than a straight which is what you have. Pay up"

"But this is my last piece of clothing!"

"I don't make the rules"

-0-

"What time is it?"

"I don't know, I forgot to wind my watch"

"What day is it?"

"Let's see, we got married on Saturday the 23rd. One, two, three, four ...I don't know. We'll have to ask Molesley tomorrow.

-0-

They completed the jigsaw puzzle sitting side by side at the small table, their legs touching, he methodically finding and putting the border together while she flitted around the interior with individual pieces she had picked at random from the pile. It took them two and half hours to compete the puzzle and during that time neither said a word to the other.

-0-

They looked at the broken chair. There was nothing in the cottage with which to fix it. How were they going to explain how they broke it to Carson?

-0-

They were sitting on the settee. It was the last day. For the first time in two weeks they were both fully and properly dressed. They were waiting for Molesley to pick them up. They did not speak. They shared the same feeling of contentment.

They heard the auto drive up. They stood up and looked around. They sighed in unison. They smiled at each other.

"I love you"

"I love you too".

Together they went out into the real world.


	19. Epilogue: For Valour

Epilogue: For Valour

Buckingham Palace

April 12, 1917

The King had read through the citations for the various medals he would be bestowing two days hence. The one for the Victoria Cross bothered him. He tapped it with his finger. "Bigge"

"Sir?" his private secretary answered.

"This name looks familiar".

"Colonel Crawley is the heir to the Earldom of Grantham. He was the solicitor from Manchester whom was plucked from obscurity because the estate is entailed and the Earl only has daughters."

"Ah yes I remember now" George V loved to hear gossip about his nobles. "And is there not something about one of the daughters?."

"Yes, the eldest daughter, Mary, was involved in that incident with the Turkish diplomat before the war. He apparently died in her arms. She is quite notorious. You will likely met her on Friday."

"Oh?"

"She and Colonel Crawley are married and I suspect that she will be present as his guest."

"Married?"

"Yes, they are only third cousins".

"Ah, like Royals, keeping it in the family. Excellent, invite them to lunch afterwards, I would enjoy some notoriety with the chicken."

"Very well Sir" said Bigge.

"Now this awarding of the Victoria Cross, I do not know...".

Bigge misunderstood. "Sir, Colonel Crawley's was an exceptional act of gallantry. It was not only courageous in its own right, it had an effect on the course of the war; our sources tell us that the failure of the attack lead directly to von Falkenhayn being relieved and he was one of their best generals."

"I am not saying the medal is too much, I am saying it is not enough. Colonel Crawley deserves more."

"Sir, it is the highest of medals."

"Yes, but he would be worthy of it even if the German attack had ultimately succeeded. We should also honour him for the result."

Now Bigge started to backtrack. Where is this leading he thought. "The Army did promote him to Colonel" he ventured.

"Attrition would have done the same in a matter of months" the King batted away the objection. "A knighthood would be appropriate. We shall make him a knight bachelor."

Bigge tried one last time "With respect sir, his action was not the only action which lead to von Falkenhayn's dismissal."

The king would not have any of it. "We might not be able to honour every straw in the load, but we can honour the straw which did the back breaking. Make it so".

"Sir!" Bigge began to take his leave. There was a lot to do in the next two days, including obtaining the prime minister's approval.

The King held up his forefinger to stop him. "The eldest Crawley daughter is a Lady by virtue of her being the daughter of an Earl"

"Yes, of course"

"And as the wife of a Knight she would also be styled a Lady"

"Yes" Bigge groaned inwardly, he could see where this was going.

"Then she shall be known as Lady Lady Mary Crawley" said the King triumphantly.

"Very good, sir, very good." Bigge knew the King would be repeating this witticism for the next few days, until something else came along to distract him.

-0-

Buckingham Palace

April 14, 1917

Colonel Crawley was sitting on the aisle, next to him was a somewhat rotund young lady, presumably the notorious Lady Mary Crawley, perhaps with child the King thought, he would have to ask May, she would know, then an older lady, probably his mother, and then the Countess and Earl of Grantham.

The King watched Colonel Crawley struggle to his feet when his name was announced. The Colonel moved forward with a cane and then he motioned to his wife to take it. She said something and he shook his head no. She scowled at him, took the cane and sat back down.

When he saw how Colonel Crawley swayed and winced as he stood there barely holding to attention balancing on his good leg while the citation was read out the King had motioned to Bigge to offer the Colonel a chair but the Colonel had refused. And the King could see the Crawley daughter glaring at him as the ceremony dragged on. No one had glared at him like that since his grandmother. He had better not tell her his little joke at lunch, she probably had no more sense of humour than grannie had had. The second part of the ceremony was going to be difficult unless...

As he pinned the medal with its plain crimson ribbon on the Colonel's coat the King said "Indulge an old man and please use the chair for the next part of the ceremony".

Colonel Crawley looked puzzled "I am sorry, Your Majesty, the next part?"

The King held up his hand "Bear with us". To Bigge he said "We shall dispense with the kneeling bench, Colonel Crawley will sit".

As the Chamberlain brought out the sword on its cushion the King could see the looks of pleased understanding appear on the faces of the Colonel's family, including his wife. Perhaps he would be able to tell his joke after all.

After he had bestowed the accolade the King smiled at the Colonel and said "We do not usually say this but in the circumstances we think it is appropriate. Arise Sir Matthew. Now let us adjourn to lunch and you can tell us all about it".

-0-

After a very pleasant lunch the Crawleys were leaving the Palace. Matthew turned to Mary and said "You know I thought that when we married we would save some money since you would not have to order new stationery however it now appears that you have to get some engraved to read 'Lady Lady Mary Crawley'". He smiled at her and the others laughed.

She glared at them. "I am not amused". And then she smiled back at them.

-0-

The Times

September 15, 1917

Born to Col. Sir Matthew Crawley VC, DSO, MC and Lady Lady Mary Crawley, of Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, a son, Charles Robert.

People reading the announcement thought there had been a typo. The King did not. He knew.

THE END

A/N: Gentle Reader, thank you for persevering to the end. I hope you have been amused with this AU M/M Season 2. Forgive me for the all the typos and historical inaccuracies and anachronisms. I trust they did not distract too much from the flow of the story. And Gentle Reader, if you contributed a review, know that your words kept the narrative going during those dark hours when your humble scribe wondered what was the point of continuing. Your kindness and consideration for a stranger is greatly appreciated.


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